A Cry You Can Hear at Night
by hurleycat
Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: One of Three

Word Count: 2,008

Disclaimer: If I owned Dan and Phil, Dan would stop stressing so much about what we want and just get a video out whenever he damn well pleases.

Author's Note: I wanted to include Dan's family in this, but I decided to make them entirely my own original characters, because Dan gets so annoyed when people bring his family into stuff and I'm just gonna respect that he likes to keep his family private. Also: Sorry there was such a long gap between _Messy and Irrational_ and _Yet, Like a Dog_. I'm a _really_ stupid person who takes _really_ hard classes so free time is hard to come by. Please give me some pity here.

.~.

_It's not a cry you can hear at night_

_It's not somebody who's seen the light_

_It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

.~.

The power had gone out in the middle of the night. Phil's alarm clock was flashing "12:00" obnoxiously when he woke up, and he groaned before thrashing his sheets off.

Every part of him screamed to go back to his unkempt bed, but he was shocked awake when he groggily unlocked his phone and saw the time. "Crap!" he shouted, tossing his phone back onto the bed. He had under an hour to get to work if he didn't want to be late—and, if his boss's "be late one more time" threat yesterday had been serious, Phil _really_ didn't want to be late.

Did he even have time to shower? No, Phil decided as he started tearing clothes out of his closet; showering would take too long, and he would have to straighten his hair too if he got it wet. Instead, he just added an extra spray of cologne and ran a brush through his hair a few more times than usual.

As he buttoned up his white shirt, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked older than 23, he realized—not because he had older features, but he because he seemed to be worn down more than 23 years could have done. His eyes were duller than they had been a few years ago, and his shoulders sunk down a little more each day. Even after he'd finished with the last button of his shirt, Phil couldn't look away from his reflection.

Was that really him staring back? He found it hard to believe that it really was. He was a little disappointed actually. A few years ago, he had had such high hopes for his YouTube career; he had never imagined he'd be stuck in a desk job, doing paperwork all day. He could never have seen himself as the man he had become.

But this was his life now.

Phil sighed, letting his hands drop from his shirt. He took one last look at himself before grabbing his bag and rushing out of his room. He tossed a few energy bars into his bag, thinking he'd be hungry later but wouldn't get a lunch break if he was late, then quickly made his way out of the flat.

"Good morning!" he heard from behind him as he pressed the down button on the elevator.

He repeated the phrase on instinct as he turn toward the voice. "Oh, hello, Brit," he said when he saw the small girl behind him. Then he asked, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Brit was his neighbor, who lived with her mother across the hall. She was nine and constantly regaled Phil with stories of her school and soccer team when she happened to meet up with him on the elevator.

She shook her head quickly and her blonde pigtails whipped around her head. Her eyes took an amused glint as she looked up at him. "Mr. Lester," she responded, forcing back a laugh, "it's Saturday." Phil must have had a pretty shocked look on his face because she immediately burst into fits of giggles.

"Oh," he said quietly, reaching up to scratch his head. He pulled his hand away when he felt how greasy his hair was. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, but he ignored it. "Thank you. I'm glad you told me before I was halfway across Manchester."

Brit laughed again. "Mommy said you're too scatter-brained to live by yourself," she said.

Phil knew Brit's mother, Mary, too well to be offended by that. She was an agreeable woman in her mid-thirties, who treated Phil like her son and often checked to make sure he was okay. She told him a lot that he needed a good woman in his life to keep him from getting too lonely.

Once, she'd been teaching him a cookie recipe and casually said, "You need a girlfriend to do these things for you, dearie" to which he'd nervously responded, "Or maybe, ya know, a boyfriend." Then she had laughed and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'I knew it' before continuing on with her baking. For some reason, that had made him love her so much more.

"I think your mum might be on to something there," Phil said as he bent down to wipe cookie crumbs from Brit's face. "How is she anyway?"

"Still pretty sick," Brit mumbled sadly. "She can't even play tag anymore."

Phil smiled sympathetically. "Mono's still keeping her down?" he said as he patted Brit's shoulder. "How about this? I'm all dressed up to go out, so I'll go down to the shops and pick up a few things for meals since she's so sick. That sound good?"

Brit brightened immediately. "And candy?" she asked hopefully, beaming up at him, her bright green eyes sparkling.

He laughed as he assured her, "And candy."

"Yay!" Bouncing, she said, "Let me just ask mama what she wants you to get!" She ran inside hastily and came back a few moments later, shouting quickly, "She gave me thirty pounds to give to you and said to say 'thank you' and said to get mac 'n cheese and cans of soup and some cereal and lunch meat."

Phil took the money from her, shoved it into his pocket, and said goodbye before pressing the elevator button again. As he stepped into it, he thought, "Why did I decide to even go out in public on a weekend?"

.~.

Dan was woken up by the sound of his brother, Marcus, arguing with his parents. He groaned, rolled over, and held a pillow over his head. This was the normal sound to get him up lately—it was either this or his mum banging on his door, begging him to get up before dinner time.

"Would you guys _shut up_?" he shouted as he threw his blankets aside. Almost literally rolling out of bed, he pulled a shirt on.

After a moment, his brother's voice carried from downstairs. "Shut up, Dan!"

Dan flung his bedroom door open and stomped down the stairs to the kitchen. "What the heck is going on?" he asked angrily. He glanced at the microwave clock and realized it was four in the morning. This was just ridiculous.

"None of your damn business!" Marcus hissed. He was wearing the same shirt he'd been wearing yesterday and his eyes were bloodshot.

Immediately, Dan knew what was going on. "Oh for fuck's sakes," he grumbled as he turned to walk back up to his room.

"Watch your language," his dad snapped.

Mum was standing in the corner of the kitchen, arms crossed over her stomach. That seemed to be the place she retreated to when people were fighting; she'd just curl up in that corner and watch, tears pricking at her eyes as she watched the three men scream at each other over God-knows-what.

"What are you yelling at me for?" Dan asked defensively. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, turning back to the conversation at hand. He wanted badly to go back to bed, but he was too stubborn to back down from a potential argument. "Marcus's the one who relapsed."

"Shut the fuck up!" Marcus screeched. He lunged forward to tackle Dan, but their dad grabbed him by the torso and pulled him back before a wrestling match could start. He fought against the strong arms restraining him but eventually gave up when he seemed to realize there just wasn't a point.

Dad looked sad for a moment. When Marcus relaxed, he let go of his son and retreated back a few steps. "Dan, just go up to your room. We'll be talking later."

Dan felt himself fill with anger. He was so sick of this shit. Marcus was twenty three years old, but he still lived at home because he had developed alcoholism in his teen years and "gotten sober" when he was twenty, only to relapse every six months or so. Marcus was bigger and stronger than Dan, but their parents always blamed Dan if he didn't stop Marcus going out to get drunk.

"About what?" Dan demanded. He refused to move from his spot in the kitchen. He could see that Marcus was eyeing him, but he didn't waver. "I didn't do shit."

"That's the point," Dad growled out. He wasn't a generally angry person, and he was only like this right now because of all the stress, but Dan still had seen him this mad enough to know not to interrupt him before he was done. And sure enough, Dad continued, "How many times have your mother and I asked you to do something when you know your brother will be in a risk situation?"

Dan felt the need to defend himself, so he shouted, "I didn't even know he was going out!" He threw his hands up in the air. "And why should I even bother if I knew he was?"

He opened his mouth to say something else, but snapped it shut immediately. He'd been about to mention something that they never talked about, something they were forcing themselves to forget. He'd brought it up in a fight once and his dad had immediately shut down, sending him to his room and refusing to argue any more.

Dad looked angered. "Because he's _your brother_!"

That was it. Dan was going to say it. He scowled and took a second to gather up courage then screamed, "Maybe I don't want to end up _in the_ _fucking hospital again_!"

His family's reaction was instantaneous. His mother gasped and put one of her hands over her mouth. His dad set his jaw and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Marcus shouted, "Oh fuck off!" just as he started to stomp forward.

On instinct, Dan backed away as his brother came close to him.

Marcus noticed and hesitated for a moment. He stopped about a foot away from Dan then cleared his throat. He said, "I was drunk when it happened, Dan. And I did apologize."

"You were drunk when you apologized too," Dan bit out.

"Daniel!" his mother shouted.

It was the first word he'd heard her say this entire time, and it pissed him off more than he could explain that she only spoke to chastise him. He said, "_What?_ What, Mom? What else could I have possibly done? Have you forgotten how long I was in the hospital? Are we all still avoiding the fact that Marcus probably would've beaten me to death if you guys didn't come home from your date early? So _sorry_, I'm a little bitter!"

Marcus stepped forward. "Dan," he said softly, reaching his hand out.

"Don't touch me," Dan growled. He slapped his brother's hand away. "I'm so sick of this. If Marcus isn't leaving, then I am."

Before anyone could respond, he ran up the stairs to his room. He pulled a duffel bag from his closet, slammed it down on the ground, and start shoving random clothes in it. He really didn't care what clothes he brought, so he stopped after he had the bare essentials. Then Dan quickly dressed himself before going into his bathroom. He slammed drawers open, noisily collecting all the things he needed. He shoved everything into his bag, zipped it up, and flung the strap over his shoulder.

He grabbed his phone and checked it. He had only one message, but it was nobody important so he just shoved his phone into his pocket and started stomping down the stairs.

Dan had barely reached the door when a hand grabbed his arm and attempted to spin him around. He flinched and prepared to defend himself if needed. After a moment, he realized it was his dad so he relaxed. Then he said, "I'm leaving whether you want me to or not." He walked out before his dad could argue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night**

**Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)**

**Part: Two of ?  
**

**Word Count:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these two human beings. The Thirteenth Amendment keeps me from doing that. **

**Author's Note: So I looked up where Dan grew up and nope. Nope. Nope. That was not going to work with my plot. It's like five hours away from Manchester! (according to Google maps, don't shoot me if I'm wrong.) so for the sake of this fan fiction, he lives in Liverpool. So there. Side note: if you're from the UK: I was looking at pictures of motorway service stations, and for goodness sakes, are they all that nice? Cause we have super sketch ones over here in America and I'm always terrified I'm gonna get shot or something.**

**Part Two**

Phil sat on the couch in Brit and Mary's apartment, holding a cup of tea tightly in his hands.

He couldn't be sure why, but he was beginning to get a heavy feeling settle in his chest. This happened every time he spent a lot of time in public, especially with people he wasn't familiar with. He was so cripplingly awkward and shy, which became more and more apparent every time he tried to interact with people; he always felt like shit after.

"Dearie, what's got you down?" Mary asked as she sat beside him, setting her cup of tea on the coffee table in front of them.

Phil forced himself to smile at her. "It's just been one of those days," he responded. It was only a half of the truth ("It just been one of those days… that make me want to die.") but Mary seemed to accept it as an answer. Before she could ask anything else, Phil said, "It's nearly nine. Why are you still up?"

Mary tended to sleep in late and go to bed early. She'd gotten mono about a month ago and, mainly because she was never very healthy to begin with, it had hit her pretty hard. She was too skinny and too tired, but somehow she still managed to take care of Brit.

"I wanted to have a chat with you." Mary grabbed her tea and took a small sip. She stared down into the cup for a moment, drumming her fingers against the side, before she continued, "You seem sad, Phil."

Phil fidgeted. He set his tea down and curled his hands around each other in his lap.

He knew exactly how this conversation was going to go. He'd heard it all before from his mum. She'd sat him down and told him that it wasn't normal for people to be this sad all the time, to which he'd responded, "Just like _I'm_ not normal?" because they both knew that's what she thought since she'd made her opinion very vocalized before. That had exploded into an argument that resulted in Phil moving out. They didn't speak to each other very much after that.

But this was Mary. She seemed to genuinely care about him, and maybe if she was saying something, it might actually be important.

"Yeah?" Phil choked out. Nervously, he reached for his tea again and took a sip so he could avoid meeting Mary's eyes.

Mary, as always, looked like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She grasped one of Phil's hands, pulled it away from his tea cup, and squeezed it softly. "You don't have to be afraid to talk about this, Phil," she said in her softest voice, which Phil had heard her use when Brit fell and scraped her knee.

Phil laughed humorlessly. "I'm afraid of everything," he whispered.

"That's the point."

Mary let go of his hand and set her tea down; Phil mimicked her without thinking about it.

She said, "Phil. You have to know that this isn't healthy. You barely leave your flat but to go to work or here. You could be so much happier if you learned how to deal with all this anxiety and sadness."

Phil shook his head. His hair flopped over his eyes but he didn't care enough to move it back. He didn't care enough to do much of anything really.

A few moments of silence passed. Then Mary cautiously moved her hand out to brush Phil's hair aside. Her hand was warm from clasping her tea, and Phil found a little bit of comfort when it grazed across his forehead.

"How old are you now?" Mary asked when she realized that Phil wasn't going to respond to her previous statements. "It seems link you moved in forever ago."

"I'm twenty three. It's been a few years." Phil was surprised by how lifeless his voice sounded when he said that, but he squashed the thought down. Then he decided it was time to go back to the actual conversation: "And I'm not sad."

"Don't lie to me, young man."

"I'm not lying." Phil sighed. He started playing with his fringe, pushing it to the side before pulling it back and repeating that. For the first time in the conversation, he looked up to meet Mary's eyes. "I'm numb. I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything."

"You can't keep going on like this," Mary told him. She shifted herself on the couch she was entirely facing him, forcing him to be totally engaged in the conversation. "You need to get yourself to a psychologist or something."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Phil mumbled. He was beginning to feel too vulnerable, and it was making him nervous. He knew from experience if she pushed anymore he'd get so anxious he'd puke; this didn't feel like the appropriate situation for that to happen.

Mary gave him a smile, but it was a sad one. "I didn't say there was, hun."

Phil was about to respond, but he heard a soft voice say, "Mummy? What's Mr. Lester doing here?" Mary looked over at the hallway mouth, where Brit was standing. She was wearing a pink nightgown and had a teddy bear clutched tightly to her chest.

"Go back to bed, Brittany," Mary said. "Mr. Lester and I are having a grownup conversation."

"No, it's fine," Phil said hurriedly. He stood, seeing his chance to escape now that he had it. "I was just leaving anyway."

Mary rose to her feet as well. "Phil—"

"Thank you for the tea!"

He was out the door and back in his flat before he even registered how rude that had been. There he had gone again, screwing up social situations because he had no clue what to do. Now he was apparently doing it around people he thought he was comfortable around. His mum and Mary were right: There _was_ something wrong with him.

Slamming to door to his flat shut behind him, Phil suddenly felt very angry. What had he done to end up this fucked up? Was it his fault? He'd thought he was a good person, but as time went on he became more asocial and progressively ruder.

He walked into his kitchen and started rummaging around his fridge for food. When was the last time he'd gone grocery shopping?

Oh yeah. Hating himself more because he was so scatter-brained, he went over to the counter where he'd dumped his grocery bags after running out to town earlier. He'd been so drained from having to deal with so many people that he'd just dumped them on the counter and gone to bed; he didn't have the willpower to unload the bags yet.

As he looked through the bags again, he decided he didn't feel like eating. It would take too much effort and all he wanted to do right now was curl up in a ball and watch Buffy. He grabbed his box set and his laptop and headed to his room.

.~.

Dan had no clue where he was going. As he pulled the front door shut behind him, he expected it to open and for his dad to come barging out, but surprisingly neither happened. That scared him a little. If his dad had come out, he could've backed out of leaving, but now he wasn't just going to go back all on his own.

He wasn't a coward like that, like Marcus was.

Dan stood in the driveway of his house for at least ten minutes before he realized he'd need to at least figure out a way to get out of here. He had to do something or he'd stay there for hours just trying to think of something.

He dug into his pocket to pull out his phone. He couldn't think of any friends he trusted enough to call, but he felt like he needed to be holding his phone for some feeling of security. As he was about to pull it out though, his hand brushed against the keychain in his pocket and he suddenly realized something very serious: he'd grabbed the wrong keys.

Whipping them out of his pocket, he noticed that they were actually his dad's. He must have grabbed the wrong ones in his rush to get out. He felt like he should be upset about this, but then something occurred to him: that meant he had his dad's _car_ keys.

"No…" Dan whispered to himself as he looked over at the black Buick in the driveway. "I shouldn't…"

Oh but he wanted to. He'd just gotten his license recently, but his dad didn't let him drive the car much. This was _his chance_. Plus, he really _did_ need some form of transportation. It only made sense for him take the car. His dad wouldn't even be using it, because Dan had his keys.

Giddily, Dan unlocked the car and climbed into the driver's seat. He ran his hand reverently over the steering wheel, reveling in how amazing this was going to be. He never got to drive alone, and now he could and he could go wherever the hell he wanted.

He started the car and backed out of the driveway, bouncing in his seat in happiness.

He managed to make it off his street before reality set back in: He was running away from home and he had nowhere to go. No matter how awesome it was that he got to drive his dad's car around, he didn't have anywhere to drive it to.

This thought scared him so much that he found himself unable to do much of anything about it. He probably should have pulled the care over to think for a moment, but instead he just took random turns until somehow he ended up on the motorway, not even sure which direction he was going.

Dan wrapped his hands around the steering wheel tightly, trying to work out some of his fear and anxiety. He was surrounded by other cars, and the thought that the people in those cars probably knew where they were going made him feel so small and scared.

He saw a service area coming up on the right, so he decided to quickly pull off and get his head together. He pulled up to a petrol pump. Scrambling out, he noticed that there were a lot of confident looking people here too; people who weren't totally lost and terrified.

After filling up the tank, he parked the car and walked into the food mart. As he casually walked up and down the aisles, Dan tried to think of what he should do now. Should he turn back?

Or should he just keep driving and see where it took him? To be completely honest, he could do with a little adventure.

And, though he was scared to keep going, he was also terrified at the idea of going back. If Marcus had relapsed again, there was no telling when he'd be coming home drunk; and Dan, more than anyone else, knew better than to be around when Marcus was buzzed.

"Oh, he's not that bad," Dan whispered to himself as he grabbed a bag of Maltesers from a shelf.

But then he did have to admit that Marcus was pretty bad. Dan had been thirteen when Marcus first started drinking, and eventually he'd gotten used to being shoved around and hit; he was the little brother, wasn't that to be expected? It had gotten a lot worse over time and Dan worked really hard to keep his parents from finding out, but when he was fifteen he'd done something (he didn't remember what) to _really_ piss a hammered Marcus off. That's when he'd ended up in the hospital and Marcus had been forced into rehab.

No, he decided, he wasn't going home until Marcus was sober again. Or gone.

Dan rubbed his face tiredly and walked up to the counter to pay for his candy. The cashier seemed to catch on to how run down he was; she cast him a sympathetic smile. "Long drive?" she asked.

He was going to say, 'No, it's only been like half an hour' but then she'd wonder why he looked so dull right now, so he just nodded.

She scanned the bar code on the candy bag. "Yeah, I've had a pretty long shift so I feel your pain," she said as she let out a little laugh.

Dan squinted his eyes to read her name tag. (_Angela_)

He tried to think of a response but soon she was handing him a bag with his Maltesers in it. Then she handed him the receipt separately. "That's weird," he thought, but then he realized seven digits had been scrawled out on it.

"Oh, uh," Dan stuttered, looking up at her. They locked eyes for a second and she gave him a small smile. "That's… um… Angela, you're—um…" How was he supposed to explain it to her? She was pretty but… "You're not really my _type_."

He waited a few seconds with his eyebrows raised while she tried to figure out what he meant. At first she looked a little offended, but then realization flashed across her face and her cheeks turned red. "Oh!" she shouted. "I'm sorry!"

Dan laughed. "It's fine."

He left and got back onto the motorway. After about fifteen minutes, he got a weird feeling. It was like a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that this was where he was supposed to be. It was screaming, "This city is where everything will get better! I _promise_!"

Feeling a little bit of baseless, irrational hope, Dan pulled off of the motorway and drove for a few more minutes before pulling over. This place felt good, but he didn't even know where he was. He decided to go into a McDonald's he noticed a few blocks away and ask the cashier where they were.

The girl at the register gave him a weird look when he asked, but she said, "Manchester. You gonna buy anything?" Dan ordered a cheeseburger and sat down in one of the plastic booths.

He pulled out his phone, realizing that he hadn't even checked it since he left. He wasn't surprised when he saw that his parents had both called him multiple times. He had one text, from Marcus. It read, "Where the fuck r u? mum and dad are flipping out."

Dan smiled, though he wasn't sure why. Then, slowly, he texted back, "Manchester."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Three of ? (four or five-ish? Maybe six? who knows...)

Word Count: 1,456

Disclaimer: I realize that my last disclaimer may have confused people who don't live in the US. So: the Thirteenth Amendment banned slavery in the US. (Side note: one of our states neglected to actually officially adopt the amendment until _under three weeks ago_, wtf) So yeah. Oh yeah, I don't own Dan and Phil.

Author's Note: do I actually have anything to say today. Uhm… *taps fingers.* I supposed I don't. Oh! Yes I do! There's no Dan in this one cause what he's doing right now isn't important. (spoiler: he's sleeping. oh the drama. You'll see next time.)

.~.

When Phil woke up the next day, he wasn't surprised that his alarm clock was still flashing "12:00". He was shocked however when he unlocked his phone and realized that it was already four PM. How long had he slept?

Oh yeah. He'd spent a majority of the night tossing and turning in his bed, getting tangled up in his sheets. He didn't actually fall asleep until maybe three in the morning, and Phil was notorious for the fact that he could sleep for over twelve hours at a time. (It was a habit he'd developed sometime in his teenage years and had never grown out of.)

"Thank God it's the weekend," Phil muttered to himself as he slowly slid out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Out of habit, he turned on the shower to heat up then went to pick out his outfit for later.

He was relieved when he realized he didn't have to do anything today. Most weekends he would have to see his family or run errands or something else that required going out in public, and those things made him nervous beyond belief. On days like this though, he could stay in his pajamas and screw around on the computer, not caring what other people thought about him or trying to appear calm when he wasn't.

He took a very long shower; he spent at least half an hour under the stream of warm water.

When he stepped out, he was surprised to hear his front door opening. Nerves set in immediately. Who was just walking into his house? What if it was a robber? He didn't know what he supposed to do if it was; he was stark naked, his phone was in room, and he wasn't exactly strong enough to fight anyone off.

_Shit_. Phil didn't know how to deal with people in general. He could barely interact with people he _knew_ weren't going to hurt him, so how was he supposed to handle this?

He tied a towel around his waist, hands shaking, and threw another over his shoulders. He didn't even bother drying his hair as he slowly pushed the bathroom door open and peeked out. He couldn't see much from his point but soon a figure appeared in the hallway.

Phil was fully prepared to dash back into the bathroom and lock the door when he realized that it was Mary. Sighing in relief and embarrassment, he stepped more out into the hallway. "Good morning, Mary," he said, blushing.

Mary made a tsk noise. "It's hardly morning, dear." She looked him up and down. "Would you like me to wait as you put some clothes on?"

"Please."

Phil dashed off to his room and dropped his towels as soon as the door had closed. He hurriedly threw on the outfit he'd already picked out (jeans and a t-shirt as per usual) hoping that he wasn't making Mary wait too long.

He should have known it was Mary coming in, he realized on afterthought; she had a key to his house in case something ever happened and he had a key to hers so he could go check on Brit when she was working late. But of course he'd gotten all nervous and his mind has gone to the worst case scenario. How typical of him.

When he was dressed, Phil walked out to the living room. Mary was sitting on his couch stiffly, looking around his living room. When she noticed him come in, she looked up and said, "When was the last time you cleaned?"

Phil glanced around. It wasn't _that_ messy. He'd lost the will to bother cleaning anything, but the worst of it was some clothes on the ground and shoes that got kicked off randomly and—_oh_. Phil ran faster than he thought he ever could to pick up the porn magazine from the ground and shove it under some clothes.

Coughing awkwardly, Phil tried not to meet Mary's eyes. This woman was a motherly figure to him—better than his had ever been—and he really had _never_ wanted her to see that. It wasn't like he generally needed to worry about hiding stuff like that; he didn't have friends to come visit him and his family was distant.

"Well," Mary said. She stood. "I was coming over to see if you were busy for dinner."

Relieved that she was brushing _it_ aside so easily, Phil answered, "Am I ever?"

Mary laughed and met his eyes. "Well it would rude if I didn't ask first. Would you like to come over and have dinner with Brit and me tonight? My boyfriend will be there and I was thinking I'd like you to meet him."

Oh God. It would be rude to say no, but Phil's worst nightmare was meeting new people. He would get fidgety and his hands would shake and he'd probably end up rushing off to the bathroom to puke if it got bad enough. He couldn't do this.

But Mary wanted him to meet her boyfriend. He'd met some of her past boyfriends in passing, but he'd never been expressly invited to meet one. This must be really important to her. It was decided then: Phil would go, for Mary.

Phil gave her a shaky smile. "What time?"

A smile spread across Mary's face and she looked so grateful that Phil almost felt good about this evening. "Six," she said.

"I'll be there." He was going to offer to bring something, but he didn't want to have to go to the shops and face even _more_ interaction.

"Thank you," Mary said. She patted the side of his face then left the flat.

A few hours later, Phil knocked on the door to Mary and Brit's flat. The door swung open almost immediately, and Brit stood in the doorway, beaming up at him. "Hi, Mr. Lester!" she shouted. "Mommy said you were coming over!" She grabbed his wrist and started pulling him into the kitchen. "Mommy! Mr. Lester's here!"

Mary was in the kitchen, stirring a pot that was emitting an amazing scent. She looked up from her work and gave Brit a warning look. "You know that Mr. Lester doesn't like to be grabbed like that. Let go of him."

Phil felt the restraint around his wrist let go and Brit said, "Sorry, Mr. Lester."

He ruffled the top of her hair. "It's fine, Brit. How about you go pick out a book for me to read to you later?" Brit dashed off, and then he turned back to Mary and smiled at her. "So where is this guy I need to meet?"

Mary blushed, and it suddenly hit Phil how smitten she was. She _really_ liked whoever this guy was. Phil swore to himself to that he wouldn't mess up the entire evening and ruin this for her.

"In the bathroom," Mary said. She set her spoon down and walked over to Phil. She smiled, noticing that he'd changed into a nicer button-up shirt, and fixed his collar affectionately. After a quiet moment, she said, "I'm really glad you're doing this. I just want you to be comfortable around people.

"I know." Phil cleared his throat.

Mary looked over Phil's shoulder (though she could just barely see over) and grinned. "Phil, this is Trent. Trent, this is my neighbor, Phil."

Phil turned around and looked at the man before him. Trent was considerably less intimidating than what Phil had imagined. He was a little shorter than Phil and was extremely skinny; Phil could imagine him spending his entire life hunched over a computer or textbooks. He had blonde hair, which was plastered down to his head carefully, and bright green eyes.

"Hello," Trent said, grinning. He stepped forward to shake Phil's hand.

Phil immediately felt nerves start to dance in his stomach. He wanted to give Trent one of those warning-that-if-you-hurt-her-I'll-end-you handshakes, but he didn't even have the courage to step forward and take the hand that Trent was offering to him.

Mary seemed to notice his discomfort. "Phil, dearie, will you help me with something in the kitchen."

Gulping, Phil nodded. He stared at the ground as he shuffled into the kitchen. Mary handed him the spoon and motioned to the pot she'd been stirring before walking out. Listening carefully, Phil could hear her say to Trent, "He's really not comfortable around people he doesn't know well. He's a good kid; I don't know how I'd take care of Brit without his help. Just give him some time to warm up to you."

"That makes him sound like a skittish puppy," Trent responded. Phil noted that this guy was terrible at whispering.

Mary sighed. "Sometimes it seems like that's exactly what he is."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Four of ?

Word Count: 2,669

Disclaimer: I don't own these perfect human beings, much to my discontent.

Author's Note: This is pretty much the darkest the story will get.

.~.

It had still been pretty early in the morning when Dan got to Manchester, and he was exhausted, so he'd found a cheap (and pretty sketchy) motel to rent a room and get some sleep. The bed had been squeaky and springs kept poking him in the stomach, but he managed to sleep quite a bit, and it was five in the evening when he woke up.

Instead of getting out of bed when he was awake, Dan just stayed where he was curled up in the warmth of the blankets.

The reality of his situation hit him again. What was he supposed to do from here? It wasn't like he could afford to stay in a hotel for much longer and he didn't know anyone here. He had no real purpose for being here other than a good feeling about the place.

What could he do?

Maybe he should go home. He'd tried to run away from his problems and he'd failed; he should just admit defeat and go running back to his parents. That would be the smartest choice.

He'd have to go back eventually anyway. He had his dad's keys and car, so he couldn't just keep these things and stay on the run.

But he didn't want to go back to Marcus. Marcus had pretty much backed off after the hospital incident when Dan was fifteen, but Dan still hated him for it. He could barely function around his brother because of the terrifying knowledge of just how badly Marcus could hurt him. Going back would only stress everyone out more.

So, for now, he'd stay away. There would come a time that he'd have to go home, but that wouldn't be anytime soon. _Hopefully_. With that settled in his mind, Dan wrapped himself up comfortably in the sheets and turned on the TV.

Dan watched for an hour or so before he got restless. He'd been so adamant this morning about staying in Manchester and yet he'd only slept since he got here. He pushed his covers aside and stumbled out of the bed. He got into the shower quickly, feeling like he really needed to relax after all this stress, and gave his muscles time to loosen under the warm water before he got out and dried off. He felt better after showering and he was starting to feel confident about going out and exploring Manchester.

"You might have actually done something right, Dan," he whispered to himself as he began to get a bit excited. "This feels good. This feels right."

After throwing on some clothes and brushing his teeth, Dan got into the car and pulled out of the motel parking lot. He drove around, taking in the city around him, for a little over an hour before it started to set in on him that his feeling might have been wrong.

He suddenly felt stupid. It was so childish to believe that some little hunch could be true about a city he'd never even been to before. What could there possibly be for him here?

He didn't even think he liked the city all that much from what he'd seen during his drive. It seemed pretty average to him, not anything that appealed to him extraordinarily.

Sighing, Dan pulled the car into a multi-storey car park and went all the way to the top level. He parked before dropping his head down onto the steering wheel. This was useless. He didn't know what to do from here. All he felt like doing was sitting in the car right here and pitying himself.

"I need fresh air," Dan muttered to himself. He pushed open the car door and stumbled out. The air at the top of the car park felt chillier than it had on the ground. Dan wrapped his arms around himself (he'd forgotten to bring a jacket and was wearing only a short sleeved shirt) as he looked around. There were only three other cars on the top level.

He stepped out closer to the ledge and realized that there was someone else here. They were standing fully on the ledge, looking down.

Dan was about to walk closer when something grabbed him from behind. He tried to shout out, but a hand slapped over his mouth to muffle any noise he made.

'What the fuck?' he thought, wriggling in an attempt to escape the arm around his midsection—but the restraining limb only tightened until the pressure on his stomach made Dan feel like he was going to puke.

Suddenly Dan was tossed to the ground. He hit the back of his head harshly on the asphalt as he went down, forcing him to let out a pained groan. Everything was blurred and he was feeling dizzy, but he could tell there was someone standing over him.

"Shut up," a choked voice answered in response. Then the person kneeled down and slammed a hand back over his mouth.

What the hell was even going on? Dan couldn't think straight, couldn't even _see_ straight, and he was pretty sure he was about to throw up. Who was this person? What did they want from him? "_Wha_…" he started to garble out, but the hand over his mouth pressed down harder and he couldn't speak any more.

Then he felt two hands patting on his pockets. Another person? Fuck.

"Where's your wallet, kid?" the person covering his mouth asked. They hovered over Dan's face from behind.

Shaking, Dan weakly lifted an arm and pointed toward his dad's car. He was too scared to try to lie his way out of this.

"Keys?"

Dan opened his mouth, and the person covering it seemed to take the hint; they pulled their hand away. Dan licked his lips and croaked out, "unlocked." Then the hand was promptly slapped back on again.

"Go get his wallet. Search the car for anything valuable." The hands on his pockets disappeared and Dan heard footsteps moving away. Then a car door opened, followed by the sound of rustling.

Then the person started coming back. By then Dan had started to see clearly again and he could tell that there were a pretty strong looking brunette male, probably even taller than Dan was. He looked up at the person covering his mouth and discovered that this guy had pretty much the same build as the other one, but he was blonde.

"Find anything?" the blonde asked. His fingers loosened a little and they splayed across Dan's mouth.

The brunette shrugged. "Wallet with a credit card. The stereo system was shit and mostly it was all just trash," he told his partner. "But I'll probably take the stereo anyway, just in case."

The blonde nodded absent mindedly. "Is that all?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna go then?"

The brunette looked thoughtful for a moment, and Dan was suddenly very frightened. After a while, the brunette shrugged and said, "Yeah, he's all yours. I'll be back in half an hour to get all the shit."

The blonde looked like he was pouting. "Half an hour? You're no fun lately." Then he sighed. "Well then. You best be going."

The brunette walked away. For some reason, Dan felt like his safety was walking away with him.

The blonde then moved his position so he still had his hand over Dan's mouth, but now he was straddling Dan's stomach. He leaned forward to whispered, "You're all mine for the next thirty minutes."

_Oh fuck. Fuck no_.

"And after that," he continued, looking like he got some sort of sick pleasure out of this, "I'm gonna kill you."

Dan felt his stomach clench and his stomach flip. This was _not_ happening to him.

After years of dealing with Marcus, Dan knew exactly how to fight off someone who was bigger than him. (In that moment, Dan was almost grateful that he had a dick for a brother.) He knew exactly what he needed right now: someone else to help. He could fight him off on his own, but if there was someone else…

The person on the ledge! Dan prayed that the person on the ledge hadn't been one of the two men.

He moved his head only a little, not enough to raise position but enough to get a better angle for what he was about to do.

In one quick motion, Dan whipped his head out and bit down on the blonde's finger. "Aw fuck!" the blonde hissed quietly, pulling his hand back.

Taking his chance, Dan screamed, "_Help_!"

.~.

As they all sat down to dinner, Phil somehow ended up sitting next to Trent. He leaned to his right—toward Brit and away from Trent—to engage in conversation with Brit. He didn't want to end up in a conversation with the other man and miss social cues and just make things awkward like always.

"I bought a new stuffed animal today!" Brit told him excitedly. "It's a pink cat!" Phil smiled at her.

He was about to respond, but Trent spoke up, "So how old are you, Phil?"

Phil gulped and shifted his position. "I'm twenty three," he said quietly. He reached for a bowl of peas to distract himself from the anxiety building up.

Trent nodded and asked, "So what do you do for a living?"

"Well I graduated from uni recently," Phil responded. Trent seemed to be an easy person to talk to, so his nerves were settling a tiny bit. "Right now I just fill out paperwork for a print shop until I can get a better job." He cleared his throat, spooning some peas onto his plate. "What do you do?"

"I work in the film industry."

Phil tried to think of a way to respond. He knew that this was supposed to be turning into a conversation, but he just wasn't sure what to say. "That's nice," he eventually choked out.

Trent's smile wavered and he turned back to ask Mary something.

Phil stared down at his nearly empty plate—he didn't much feel like eating—and tried to force back the thoughts that were coming forward. He couldn't even hold a stupid conversation without messing everything up. How was he supposed to function if he couldn't even interact with this perfectly unintimidating man.

He was so _stupid_. Phil winced at his own thoughts, at his own mind spitting insults. 'Why do you even go out in public?' he thought to himself. 'You're just going to screw everything up as always. Why do you even bother living?'

Phil felt himself grasping his fork too tightly. He let go and it clattered to his plate with a loud _ding_.

Everyone turned to look at him, and his stomach started to twist into knots. Oh God-everybody was staring at him, _judging_ him. He was going to be sick. Clearing his throat, he set his napkin on the table and said, "Excuse me. I"—he fought down the need to puke—"I need to use the restroom."

He nearly ran to get to the bathroom in time. He fell to his knees and emptied his stomach into the toilet. What little he had eaten was now swirling in the toilet water.

Phil rested his head on the toilet seat and breathed carefully through his mouth. What was becoming of him? He wondered. If he couldn't even socially interact without being sick, why didn't he even continue to live? He had no purpose anymore.

_Just kill yourself_.

Phil ground his teeth. No. He'd gotten over that. Years had passed since he'd wanted to just end it all—well, he had his bad nights lately but he hadn't _seriously_ thought about it in a while.

_Why not? Nobody will miss you_.

Mary and Brit would miss him.

_They just feel bad for you. Don't you see it_?

No!

_Do it_!

"Phil?" Somebody knocked on the door. Phil jumped before realizing that it was just Mary. "Are you okay? You've been in there an awfully long time."

Phil hesitated. It hadn't felt like that long. "Have I?" he asked shakily.

"Yes"—Mary paused for a long moment and Phil wondered what she was doing—"are you okay?"

"No. I'll be right out." Phil slowly stood and wiped his mouth on some toilet paper. Then he cupped some water in his hands and rinsed out his mouth.

When he opened the door, Mary was immediately on him. She was patting him down and stroking his face. "Is something wrong? Oh, I've stressed you out, haven't I? Oh dear, I always do this to you."

Phil allowed her to fawn over him for a few more moments than lightly pushed her away. He wrung his hands together and tried to think for a moment. Should he tell her how he was feeling? Should he confess how much he wanted to end it all right now?

_No! She'll try to stop you_!

'I'm trying to stop me!' he thought. 'I don't really want to do this.'

_Stop lying to yourself. You've wanted to die since high school_.

'I'm better now!'

_You'll never escape these thoughts_.

"I just really need to go," Phil stammered. He pushed past Mary and rushed out of the flat, not even bothering to wave goodbye to Brit or Trent.

He should've gone back to his flat from there. He knew that he should've, but he didn't _want_ to. He knew where he wanted to go, and he was so desperate to get out that he was going to go there. He didn't even care anymore.

He slammed his fist into the elevator button several times before it finally opened for him. After an excruciatingly long ride down, he finally stepped into the lobby then ran out of the building and down the street. He didn't stop running until he'd made it to the multi-storey car park.

Phil stood at the bottom of it, looking up. He was suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of relief. Soon all of his suffering would be over and he would be a bother to the entire world anymore. He would no longer mess up everything, and have breakdowns, and get sick, and make everyone wish they didn't know him.

Phil started to climb the stairs to the top level. As he walked, he looked down and was glad he'd dressed up for the evening; he didn't want to die looking messy since everyone around would be seeing his body He fixed a button on his shirt self-consciously.

As he finally reached the top, Phil started to worry. What if a little kid saw his body? He didn't want to damage someone like that. But he had to admit, as much as Phil cared about kids' sanity, he cared about dying more.

Slowly, each step slow and purposeful, Phil stepped onto the ledge and looked down. There weren't many people down there, so he wouldn't make that big of a disturbance.

He took a deep, calming breath. _This was going to be the day he died_. That was such a strange thought to try to wrap his mind around. Just one little step forward and soon he'll be dead.

He took another breath. Brit and Mary would move on, right? And his parents and brother would be glad to be rid of him… right? He wouldn't be causing damage by dying; people would be so much better off with him not around.

He tried to take another breath but his chest shuddered and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. There was a touch of fear in his chest but also a great amount of anticipation.

_Here we go_.

Phil picked up his foot. Here goes—

"_Help_!"

He spun around. What was that? The cry was followed by some rustling.

"Shit," Phil said under his breath. Someone needed help and he couldn't just jump off a building when he was in a position to give it to them. He stepped forward, back onto solid ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Five of ?

Word Count: 2,321

Disclaimer: I do not own these beautiful human beings.

Author's Note: I'm _so_ sorry that this took me so long. I've had dance and work and school and I'm so fricken tired right now and I have to work tomorrow too and I should be in bed. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Dan and Phil will finally meet! *happy dance*

.~.

"Hey!" a voice shouted from somewhere to their right.

The blonde looked up and took off as soon as he saw another man running toward them. Dan felt a giant surge of relief shoot through him and he let his head fall back to the ground and his eyes close in exhaustion. As he heard footsteps get closer, he opened them again to see who his savior was.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" the man coming toward Dan asked.

He was tall, probably not taller than Dan but still tall. His hair was dark and long, contrasting on his pale face. As he got closer, Dan could tell that he had shocking blue eyes that were wide open and worried at the moment.

Dan rubbed his head pointlessly and blinked a few times. "Yeah, I am. Thanks, man," he said as he started to lug himself up.

The man stuck out a hand. After a few moments of just staring at the appendage in front of him, Dan realized that it was meant to help him up. He grabbed the man's hand and continued to struggle up until he'd made it to his feet.

They stared at each other for a few moments, both unsure of what to say. Eventually, Dan plucked up enough courage to say, "I'm Dan." This time, he was the one to stick out his hand.

The man shook his hand. "Phil."

Dan nodded. He had suddenly found himself in an extremely awkward situation and had a rapidly growing headache. He put a hand on the side of his head and closed his eyes.

"You okay?" Phil asked, putting his hand out for the second time. This time though, he withdrew it before it could get very far and he started to shift his weight around on his feet. "You don't look so good."

The reality of what had almost happened hit Dan and he started shaking. "Yeah, I just… I just need to… lie down or something," he said, rubbing the side of his face. "I'll just…" He took a step forward, toward his car, but he stumbled on his weak legs.

Phil jerked out a step and put his hands out. "Whoa! Don't fall." He put his hand on Dan's shoulders and started to lead him forward. "Which car is yours?"

Dan pointed shakily and was lead to his car. He threw open the door and, as he attempted to climb into the driver's seat, he stumbled, knocking his ankle against the side of his car. "Fuck," he muttered to himself as he tried to stumble in again.

Phil put his hand on Dan's shoulder. "I don't think you should be driving like this," he said softly. He seemed to debate something for a second. Then he looked over his shoulder at the edge of the parking lot. "Let me drive you home. I don't want you to crash."

Dan paused to consider for a moment. For all he knew, Phil could be a total psycho who would just pull into the nearest alley and strangle him, but he did seem pretty sincere in his concern. And it _was_ true that Dan would most likely crash if he tried to drive right now. "All right," Dan said. He'd left the keys in the seat so he just shakily walked around to the passenger's side.

Phil slid in and stuck the keys into the ignition. When Dan had buckled up and was settled, Phil pulled out of the parking spot. As he started driving toward the exit, he asked, "So where am I headed?"

_Oh_. It struck Dan that he wasn't actually sure. He'd paid for the entire night at the hotel, so he supposed he should just head back there. But that would require being alone and he wanted to be around people… but considering what had almost just happened to him, maybe he _did_ want to be alone. God—his thoughts were just a jumble of mixed up mush.

Phil seemed to be unsettled by Dan's long silence. "_Is_ there somewhere I can take you?"

"Yeah"—Dan stuttered—"I'm staying at this hotel like ten minutes away, I think. I'm not sure what it's called. It's uh… um… Well just drive and maybe I'll recognize it."

"There are a lot of hotels around here, Dan," Phil said. He let his hand slide down the steering wheel slowly.

Dan shifted awkwardly, pulling on his seatbelt. Well now he just looked stupid. "Well do you know of any cheap ones around here?"

Phil gave him a long, calculating stare. After a moment, he asked, "How old are you?"

Dan was quick to reply, "Eighteen."

"Hm."

Phil pulled the car up to the exit and carefully turned out. As he started down the street, he seemed to be wondering something. He was probably considering where he should be going.

"So…" Dan tapped his hands on his thighs and looked over at his mostly silent companion.

Was Phil driving him toward a cheap hotel or was he just randomly driving? There was no way for Dan to know; he knew nothing about Manchester and everything around him was unfamiliar.

Phil suddenly said, "Listen, kid"—Dan had to stop himself from interjecting that he wasn't a kid—"if you don't know where you're going…"

"I know where I'm going! I just… don't know… where I'm going." Dan huffed.

"If you don't know where you're going, why don't you…" Phil rubbed the side of his face and sighed, looking conflicted. "Just stay at my flat for the night while you get it figured out."

Dan was caught off guard. What was he supposed to say to a complete stranger who'd just offered something like that? He didn't know this guy; how could he trust Phil enough to just sleep at his house? Then again, Phil had saved his life not ten minutes ago. That had to be a point for him, didn't it?

Finally, Dan settled on saying, "I don't want to intrude…"

Phil shrugged. "I'll sleep better knowing I didn't just dump you somewhere you didn't know."

Dan nodded slowly. "Okay."

Phil nodded too.

Dan stared at his hands for a majority of the car ride, feeling extremely awkward as he was driven by a stranger to this stranger's house. What was he supposed to say? But Phil did seem like a genuinely good guy, so why should Dan be worried?

He glanced over at the man driving his car. Phil was staring forward, but Dan was once again shocked by how blue his eyes were. They were beautiful, the same color that Dan was used to seeing in swimming pools. And the way that they contrasted with his pale skin and his dark hair adding to the effect…

_Stop_! Dan scolded himself. He _always_ did this: developed stupid little crushes on guys without even knowing whether he was gay or not.

It was _necessarily_ a crush though. Dan was just appreciating that Phil was attractive; that didn't mean he was into him…

Oh who was he kidding—Dan was into Phil.

'Oh, shit," Dan thought suddenly, 'but he called me _kid_. I wonder how old he is. He doesn't look like he's _that_ old but…'

"So there's a room that hasn't been rented out in my flat yet, so you can just sleep in there." Phil wouldn't meet his eyes, and Dan found that a little disconcerting.

"Okay."

.~.

Phil watched as Dan set his bag down on the bed in the spare room.

The boy was very tall, one of the few people Phil knew who were taller than him, and was much darker than Phil. He seemed uncomfortable, but Phil couldn't blame him, so Phil started to walk out of the room. "If you get hungry, just raid the kitchen," he said as he closed the door behind him.

He shuffled back over to his room.

How could he have done this? He went to great lengths to avoid all forms of human contact and yet he'd just invited a total stranger to stay in his home. He really couldn't get any stupider.

And what would Mary say? Of course she would make assumptions if she saw Dan… _Why was he even thinking that_? Dan wouldn't be around long enough for Mary to notice him. Even if Dan needed to stay that long, Phil would probably scare him away with his total awkwardness.

Phil sat down on his bed and set his head in his hands.

As awkward as he was though, it was the right thing to take Dan in for the night. The poor kid had been shaking so hard his keys rattled in his hands. And what was he doing in Manchester alone with seemingly no real reason for being there? Dan had seemed so lost and confused when Phil asked him where to take him to; it was really saddening.

Phil suddenly imagined Dan sitting in the spare room right now, in the same position as Phil, wondering what the heck he should do in a house that wasn't his. Sighing, Phil lugged himself off the bed and walked into the spare room. He knocked on the door.

A few loaded moments later, the door opened and Dan popped his head out. His eyes looked suspiciously glassy. "Yeah?" he asked.

Phil shifted the weight on his feet. "I'm about to order some dinner so… um… is pizza okay?"

He wasn't actually hungry. He was still feeling a bit sick from earlier (_don't think about earlier_) but he figured he should at least feed the kid under his roof.

Dan looked confused. "I thought you said to just get…"

Phil cut him off and said, "Yeah, but I'm getting food for myself so I might as well buy you some too. I invited you; I should probably take care of you. What toppings do you like?"

Dan shrugged, looking uncomfortable. His shoulders curved in awkwardly. "Anything is fine," he said, waving his hand.

"Okay," Phil muttered. He walked away and called to order a cheese pizza.

After making the call, which he'd stuttered and mumbled through most of, he began to think about what had happened earlier. He couldn't even kill himself right, he realized. How hopeless could he get? He was _so close_ to finally ending it all, but then he'd let his stupid everyone-needs-help mentality get in the way and Dan had gotten in the way of his suicide.

Once Dan was gone again, Phil would be able to do it. And this time he wouldn't screw it up.

But now he had time to make things even worse for everybody with his presence. If he'd just died tonight, nobody would've had to deal with him anymore, but now he'd have to face what he'd done at Mary's tonight and probably be forced to see a therapist.

_Oh_. But this could be better. Now he'd have the chance to say goodbye to everybody: Mary, Brit, even his mother.

And now he had more time to plan. Did he really want to do by jumping off a building? That was so big and dramatic, so _not Phil_. He could do a quiet hanging and hope Brit wasn't the one to find him. Or he could overdose and die peacefully. Or he could do old school…

His eyes swiveled around to the rack of knives on his counter.

_No_. Phil had sworn to himself that he would never cut himself because that was so… _real_. Because it was depressed people who cut themselves and Phil was trying so hard to deny that he was depressed.

_I'm not depressed. _

_Of course not. Because all normal people are currently planning their own deaths right now, right?_

_Shut up. It's different._

_Shut up. No, it's not._

"Um, Phil?

Phil spun around.

Dan was standing in the doorway, continuing to look uncomfortable. He glanced around. "So um… nice flat."

Phil looked at him for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Thanks."

The doorbell rang. Phil rushed out and paid for the pizza, which he set down on the kitchen table. "Sit down and eat," he said awkwardly to Dan as he pulled plates out of the cupboard. "I just got cheese. I hope that's okay."

Dan pulled his chair out and sat down gingerly. "Yeah, that's fine." He looked down at the plate Phil set in front of him.

Phil sat down as well and put a slice of pizza on each of their plates. He took a big bite out of his, knowing that it probably wouldn't stay down in his stomach anyway. He watched Dan start to eat and the question burst out of him before he could stop it: "So who was that guy?"

Dan coughed on the piece of pizza in his mouth. He gathered himself after a few moments then answered, "I don't know."

"Oh." _Good_. Phil had been scared that it might have been a shitty boyfriend or something, somebody Phil would have to worry about tracking Dan down and coming to his flat.

Dan stared down at the table as he continued to eat and a silence blanketed over them. When Phil was starting on his third piece, Dan suddenly asked, "Why were you standing on the ledge?"

It was Phil's turn to cough on his food. "Huh?" he asked, even though he'd understood Dan perfectly.

Setting down the little bit of pizza he had left, Dan said, "When I got to the car park, you were standing on the ledge, looking down. Why—"

Phil stood abruptly. He wasn't going to talk about this with some eighteen year old kid. He set his plate in the sink and started walking away. "Put the box of pizza in the fridge when you're done," he said as he disappeared into the hallway.

Dan stuttered back, "Okay. Uh… sorry for asking, I guess."


	6. Chapter 6

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Six of ?

Word Count: 2,000

Disclaimer: I don't own Dan and Phil.

Author's Note: Once again, I apologize for the wait.

.~.

_"Marcus? Where are you?" Dan pushed open their bedroom door, expecting his brother to be flat-out on his bed, but Marcus wasn't there. _

_Dan had heard the door bang open and he'd recognized the thumps of uneven steps on the stairs, so he knew his brother was home, but had no clue where he was. The second story of the house wasn't that large; there weren't many places Marcus could have gone to hide. _

_Dan pushed open their parents' bedroom. No Marcus._

_"Marcus! If you're not gonna come out just know that Mum and Dad are gonna be home around eleven, so you've got a few hours to sober up. Maybe you can convince them you haven't relapsed up if you just let me clean you up and then go to bed." He did this a lot, helping Marcus lie to their parents; it usually made Marcus happy with him and kept Dan safe for a few nights. _

_Still there came no reply. "Marcus!" Dan was beginning to get worried._

_"Marcus?" Dan pushed open the door to the bathroom they shared. "Marcus, what the fuck?"_

_Marcus was lying on the bathroom floor, flat out on his back, looking quite peaceful. His hands were flung up by his head; one of them was holding an empty pill bottle. His eyes were closed and he was smiling._

_Dan scrambled over and grabbed the bottle from Marcus's hand. Tossing it aside, he grabbed his brother's wrist and tried to feel for a pulse. Relief flooded through him when he found that it was still going strong. Marcus must have just swallowed the pills. _

_"Don't you dare do this to Mum and Dad," Dan muttered angrily as he pulled Marcus's head into his lap. Cringing, he pried open his brother's mouth and stuck two fingers down it. For a few terrifying seconds, Dan thought it wouldn't work, but then Marcus coughed and sat up just in time to puke right into Dan's lap. _

_A few silent moments passed. Marcus stared down at the bathroom floor, gasping for air, and Dan was too busy watching his brother to worry about the vomit all over his jeans. _

_After about a minute, Dan couldn't take the silence anymore so he said, "Oh, for fucks sakes, Marcus."_

_Marcus got up onto all fours, still panting from his vomiting, and gritted his teeth. "Not a word of this to Mum and Dad," he said in a threatening voice. He slowly got to his feet. _

_Dan got up as well. "Yeah, right," he scoffed, already reaching for his phone. "I'm calling them right now."_

_Marcus had slapped the phone out of his hand before Dan could even unlock it. He didn't have time to register what was going on until Marcus had already tackled him to the ground and was holding both of his arms down, one knee on each side of Dan's stomach. He leaned over and growled, "Don't you fucking dare." His breath smelled like booze. _

_Having hit his head on the linoleum as he went down, Dan had to blink a few times before he recollected all his thoughts. He turned his head to the side so he wasn't nose to mouth with Marcus. "Fuck you," he bit out, forever angry at how Marcus tried to control him. _

_The first punch made something in his nose crunch. Dan covered his face with his hands—an acquired habit—and tried to curl up smaller. Blood dripped onto the floor beneath him and puddled near his mouth; some gathered in the creases between his fingers. _

_The next punch was to his stomach. All of the air in his lung was smashed out and he barely cleared his head in time to hear Marcus growl, "This stays the fuck between us," just as he delivered another blow to the same spot. _

_Dan started coughing and desperately working to restore the lost oxygen in his lungs. Just as he was about to fully recover, he felt hands wrap tightly. Despite being well built in general, Marcus was still pretty skinny and his fingers were the same; each of them dug singularly and sharply into Dan's throat. _

_Coughing again, Dan brought his hands up again to fight off Marcus; and, after a few moments of struggling, he managed to work them away. He scrambled to his feet—he nearly slipping in his brother's vomit and his own blood—and started running. He'd lived in this house his entire life and he didn't need to be able to see or even think to know exactly when he needed to turn and he got pretty far before his injuries got to him._

_The blood from his nose was now dribbling down his face and shirt, and some of it had gotten in his mouth. He stopped at the top of the stirs to spit it out and almost immediately felt his brother behind him. _

_He didn't even have time to turn before Marcus had shoved him and Dan was tumbling down the stairs. He felt his already bruises body jostle and crack with each step until he mercifully reached the bottom. Groaning, he curled up and covered his head. God—his ribs hurt so much. _

_Marcus, who had apparently run down the stairs after him, was behind him soon, grabbing his wrist to try to get him up. Dan forced himself to be dead weight, rebelling against Marcus in the only way he could. "Get up," Marcus groaned, pulling harder on Dan's wrist. _

_It was really starting to hurt. Dan debated just giving in and getting up but he was too wrapped up in his rebellion to do that. _

_"Ugh." Marcus gave one last tug, this time turning Dan's wrist a bit as well._

_This time, something cracked. Dan screamed. "Fuck!" he shouted, yanking his hand from Marcus' grip with no regards for pain anymore. He cradled it by his chest, feeling tears start to prick at his eyes. Everything hurt, and his wrist was the worst of it all. _

_"Shut up," Marcus said, sounding panicked. He reached down to look at Dan's wrist, but he grabbed it with too much force and the rough treatment cause Dan to scream again. Marcus punched him again and again and again. _

_Dan, starting to realize that this was so much worse than anything Marcus had ever done to him before, tried to scramble to his feet but failed and landed on his broken wrist as he fell, causing him to shout out again. _

_Marcus grabbed his by the front of his shirt and lugged him up. He slammed Dan against the wall, wrapping one hand around his brother's throat. "I told you to shut the fuck up."_

_Dan, already feeling like he couldn't breathe, started to panic. He threw his hands up to protect his throat. "Marcus, please, I'll be quiet. Marcus." _

_Marcus let go. Dan crumpled to the floor and had only a few seconds of relief before he was being punched again, all over and with increasing force. Everything was starting to hurt worse and worse and oh god it felt like he was going to die he was going to die. I'm going to die I don't want to die help._

_"Marcus!" he screamed, hurting his throat. "Please, Marcus! Help!" Already his voice was hoarse from loud he'd shouted. "Someone, help!"_

_Were their neighbors close enough to hear? Probably not, but he was desperate enough to try at this point. _

_His vision was starting to look a little black on the edges and he couldn't focus on any one thing or any thought. Sometimes it felt like he was falling asleep and then the next moment he would feel startling awake. Now he was in a falling asleep stage and he could barely see Marcus' face swimming over him. _

_"Please," he croaked much more quietly than he had been. _

_Then he could almost swear he heard a door open and a light flicked on—_and wait the lights hadn't been off in the first place. And now someone was coming toward him and—

"Dan, wake up!"

.~.

Phil woke up around midnight feeling groggy and confused. He couldn't remember actually going to bed, and he was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt.

He shoved aside his sheets, noticing the drool on his pillow, and started to get up to search for some pajama pants. He had just started to pull on his blue plaid ones when he first heard someone scream. Confused, he whipped his head around and started to panic.

Shit—who was in his house? Why did this keep happening to him? First he heard Mary creeping around his house and now some random person screaming?

What if it was Mary? What if something was happening to her or Brit? Who else would be in his house anyway? It wasn't like he had friends and—

_Oh_. _Dan_.

Phil had forgotten about Dan in his tired stupor. He finished pulling on his pants and started to stumble out of his room. Headed toward the spare room, he heard Dan shout, "Fuck!"

_Language_, Phil chastised mentally just as he heard another scream.

By the time he'd finally made it to the room, Dan was muttering more than shouting now and he was saying what sounded like a cry for help. After a second he became clearer: "Someone help! Please…" He started to thrash around in his sheet.

Worried, Phil flicked on the light and rushed over to Dan's bed. "Dan, wake up!" Just as he was about to touch him, Dan jerked up in bed and shouted out. Phil gulped and said, "You okay?"

Dan struggled into a sitting position, kicking the sheets away, and wiped his hair away from his face. He looked fazed for a few moments before he was able to say, "Yeah. Fine. Thanks." He rubbed his face tiredly and sighed.

Phil stood awkwardly over him, unsure of what to do with his hands. "Do you—uh—need anything?"

Dan shook his head and shifted around in the mattress. "No, thanks though. I'm just gonna… go to the bathroom."

The doorbell rang. Phil knew immediately that it would be Mary, so he rushed to the door, and sure enough she was waiting for him nervously outside. She chewed on her lip as she looked up at him. "Phil, dearie?"

He lifted his eyebrows.

She continued, "I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

Phil couldn't let her find out about Dan. He didn't want her jumping to conclusions and he wanted to be able to forget about Dan as soon as the kid was gone. "It was the… TV," Phil lied, knowing that he was probably way too obvious.

Mary gave him a suspicious look. "Well, could I come in?" she asked.

Phil knew that there was no fighting her off once her motherly instincts had kicked in, so he stepped aside for her to make her way in.

She started walking toward the living room but paused as she passed the hallway. "Oh," she said, her voice getting a little high, "_hello_."

Phil shuffled over and realized that Dan was standing in the hallway, angled toward the bathroom and looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He moved a little toward Mary. "Er, hi," he said.

Mary's face was bright red and she started to back away a little. "I didn't know you had company, Phil," she said, clearing her throat every few words. She couldn't look at Dan anymore.

Phil felt himself start blushing immediately. "Oh, no, he's not—we're not—uh—um." He started coughing and stared down at the carpet, shuffling his feet. "He's just… needed a place to stay for the night so you know. Uh. Yeah."

Dan was watching them uncomfortably.

Mary sighed and said, "Well can we at least talk about why you rushed out at dinner while I'm here?"

Phil sighed and started walking toward the kitchen. "Alright, let's do this alone."


	7. Chapter 7

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: seven of ?

Word Count: 2,179

Disclaimer: I don't own Dan and Phil.

Author's Note: yeah so I got my story plot stolen for the first time ever on Tumblr. That was fun. Idk why but I'm not even that mad—mainly because I kinda feel bad for them since like they can't think of their own plot so they gotta steal my really shitty one.  
(Also, if you guys haven't Tumblr stalked me, PLEASE DO I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND JUST MESSAGE ME AND SAY YOU'RE FROM FF AND I PROMISE TO LOVE YOU FOREVER AND WE CAN BE BEST FRIENDS. You don't even have to follow me, you guys just all seem so nice and I want to get to know you so… my url is kellylikescats)

.~.

Phil set both he and Mary up with a cup of hot tea and sat across from her at the dining table. Staring down at his hands, he said, "I am sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to ruin the evening." He shifted his feet around, suddenly very conscious of his body positioning.

In the back of the apartment, Phil could hear the toilet flush and the sink turn on. He wondered absently if Dan would come out to the kitchen or go back to bed.

Mary shook her head and took a ship of her tea. "You didn't ruin anything, Phil," she told him. "I was just worried." She chuckled, brushing greying hair from her face. "And then I hear screaming at midnight. Imagine how much worse that made it."

Phil felt guilty start to pile up in his gut. Mary shouldn't have to worry about him all the time; she'd be better off if he was just gone. "I'm sorry," he repeated, staring at his tea.

Sighing, Mary said, "I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."

"Well I do." Phil shrugged.

Mary tilted her head, taking a sip of tea. She looked down at the table for a long moment before she finally said, "So what _was_ the yelling about? You two have a little domestic?"

Phil jolted and coughed on his tea. "No!" He started to wipe tea from his chin and shirt as he said, "I already told you; we're not together. Dan's only eighteen." Then he paused for a moment. "He was having a nightmare, I think. That's what you heard."

At that moment, Dan walked into the kitchen, looking unsure of himself. He'd put some pajama bottoms on but still wasn't wearing a shirt, and Phil found that he was enjoying the view.

_Stop that! He's five years younger than you!_

"I—uh—l…" Dan put his hand on the door jamb and looked around at anything but Phil. He cleared his throat a few times, wiping hair from his face. "I'm a bit—"

Mary hopped to her feet, and Phil recognized her motherly instincts taking over. She grinned. "The boy's hungry, Phil!" she proclaimed and started walking toward Dan.

Dan took a step back. He curled in on himself a bit and eyed Mary warily.

Phil felt something protective rear up in his chest. He stood as well and said, "Mary," before he could stop himself. He didn't know why he'd said it or why he'd said it so protectively, but he found that he was a little proud of himself.

Mary turned back to look at him, lifting one eyebrow. "Yes?"

Dan looked at Phil curiously then swiveled his gaze over to Mary. He looked cautious, but he uncurled himself a bit and moved farther into the kitchen.

Phil cleared his throat, immediately feeling guilty for how he'd snapped at Mary. He looked over at Dan. "Sit down. I'll make you some tea. Is leftover pizza okay?"

Dan simply nodded as he walked over to the table and sat on the opposite side form Mary, next to Phil's chair. He curled his hands together, occasionally uncrossing them only to twine them together again. He wouldn't look anyone in the eye.

Phil pulled the pizza box out of the fridge and set it on the table before walking over to the stove. As he poured hot water in a mug, he watched Mary and Dan out of the corner of his eye. Mary was trying to smile comfortingly at Dan, but Dan was having none of it; he continued to look down and seemed a little scared.

After he put a tea bag in the mug, Phil got a plate for Dan and brought both over. He set them down.

Dan slowly pulled a piece of pizza out of the box and started eating.

Mary watched him for a few more moments before she turned back to Phil, who had sat back down next to Dan. "You never did explain why you left so quickly," she pointed out, casting glances at Dan every once in a while.

Phil sighed. "Let's not talk about it right now." He used his eyes to motion toward Dan.

"Oh. Alright." Mary stood slowly. "I should get back home just in case Brit wakes up." She waved to Phil and Dan then left.

When they could hear the sound of the door closing, Dan turned to Phil and asked, "Was that your mom?"

Phil scoffed out a laugh. He stood to put Mary's mug in the sink. "She wishes," he remarked. "No, she's my neighbor."

Dan nodded and turned back to his pizza. They fell into silence as Dan chewed and Phil started to rinse out some dishes from earlier.

After a few minutes, Phil stared to wonder if Dan was expecting him to say something. What if he was judging Phil because he couldn't make basic conversation in his own house? Oh shit—what if Dan couldn't stand Phil already because of how awkward he was?

"So, erm." Phil set a plate in the washing machine and wiped his wet hands on his shirt. He turned to Dan and suddenly remembered how glaringly shirtless the younger boy was. He choked as he tried to say, "So—um."

Dan looked over at him and, realizing that Phil was trying to start conversation, said, "This is good pizza. Where's it from?"

"Place down the road," Phil said gratefully. He walked over and sat across from Dan, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He was tired, but he felt too wired to go back to bed.

Dan nodded and went back to eating, scrunching his lips awkwardly.

Phil set his hands out on the table. "So are you okay?" he asked suddenly. "I mean—like—you were screaming and all, and I just—"

"I'm fine," Dan replied. He set his half-eaten piece of pizza down. "Just a bad dream."

"Oh, okay."

Dan pursed his lips. "I'm gonna go back to bed." He stood and looked around, holding his plate of pizza awkwardly in his hand. Phil pointed toward the trash can. After throwing away the pizza and putting his plate in the sink, Dan shuffled back into the spare bedroom.

Sighing, Phil turned off all the lights in the main room and went back to his room. He didn't bother taking off his pants as he got back into bed and pulled his old sheets over himself.

He flipped over after a moment, finding himself uncomfortable. A few seconds later, he flipped again. Ugh—it was going to be one of _those_ nights. He knew he would toss and turn until four in the morning before he finally fell into a restless, strange sleep.

Staring up at the ceiling, Phil contemplated the last half hour. He wasn't supposed to find himself attracted to this vulnerable eighteen-year-old kid! Dan was too young and he was pathetic and he just needed a place to stay; he didn't need Phil creeping on him and checking him out.

But Dan really was attractive. If Phil didn't know any better, he'd think he was developing a crush on him. He didn't even _know_ Dan all that well; he shouldn't be getting feelings for him. This was so wrong.

And on top of that, Phil just didn't _do_ romance anyway. He'd never been able to connect with anyone the way that he thought he should. He always got so nervous about messing things up, and then he _did_ mess things up. He'd never made anyone like him long enough to have a relationship.

Phil sighed and closed his eyes.

He needed to just clear his mind and get some sleep.

.~.

Dan had fallen asleep pretty quickly and slept soundly enough that he woke up around seven AM and was completely well rested. He stayed in bed for as long as he could before the need to go to the toilet drew him out and he stumbled out to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he walked out to the kitchen and looked around. He wasn't sure what to do now. This wasn't his house and he didn't have his computer or anything, and he didn't want to do anything that would make a mess for Phil.

But he was _bored_.

Dan sat down at the dining room table he'd been at seven hours ago and looked around. He had a hard time believing that it was just Phil living here, based on how well decorated it was. The furniture all matched and there was some pretty impressive art up on the walls. Phil probably had a girlfriend who helped him decorate.

Why did that thought send a pang through Dan's chest?

Oh shit. Nope. Nope. No, absolutely not. He was _not_ going to get all hung up Phil now. He told himself he wouldn't do this!

But Phil _was_ really nice. He seemed to be a bit awkward, but he was nice enough to let Dan, some random kid he didn't know, stay in his house and not even seem to be suspicious of him. And he'd bought Dan dinner and woken him up from his nightmare.

Dan suddenly felt bad for disrupting Phil's life like this. Part of him wanted to make up for it. How though? He looked around and decided: He was going to make breakfast. Then Phil wouldn't have to feed him _again_.

He got up and padded over to the fridge. He opened it up to realize that it was actually pretty full. He chewed on his lip as he tried to decide what to make. Eventually, Dan grabbed the carton of eggs (which turned out to be full) and set them down on the counter.

Next he needed a skillet. He opened the first cabinet he saw and was faced with bowls and plates. He opened the next one. Ah, there they were. He pulled out the skillet and set it on the stove, which he turned on after a bit of fiddling.

He reached back to grab the eggs and cracked one over the skillet. As it fried, he went back to looking around the apartment.

"Good morning," Dan heard from behind him. He jumped and spun around.

Phil was standing in the doorway, rubbing his face. His hair was messy and framed around his face, and it was actually kind of hot—_stop, Dan_!

Dan cleared his throat. "Mornin'."

"What're you doing?" Phil asked. His voice was strangely deep as a side effect of just having woken up.

Dan motioned to the skillet. "Making breakfast. Want some?"

Phil nodded. He plodded over to the dining room table and plopped down. "That'd be great. Thanks," he said.

Just as Dan was flipping the first egg onto a plate, he heard his phone going off. He set the egg in front of Phil then ran into the spare bedroom and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The screen was proclaiming: _Mum_.

He had to pick up, didn't he?

"Good morning," he said nervously into the phone.

"_Daniel_!" his mum shrilled. She sounded both angry and relieved. "Where have you been all night? I'm so worried. Your brother said you were in Manchester, but that doesn't tell me enough. Are you safe? Did you sleep in the car? Please don't tell me you slept in the car. Dan—"

Cutting her off, Dan sighed and said, "I didn't sleep in my car, Mum. I slept at a"—okay, how to explain Phil?—"friend's house."

His mum hesitated for a moment. "Since when do you have friends in Manchester?"

"I just do, Mum," he responded testily. "Trust me—I'm fine. I'm safe."

She sighed into the phone. "Well, when are you coming home?" she asked sadly.

Dan suddenly felt bad. He loved his parents, and he knew he shouldn't have just run out like that, but he was still sick of everything that happened with Marcus. He needed to get away for a little while, and even guilt from his mum couldn't change that.

"I don't know," he answered. He shifted the phone to his right ear. "I need to get away, Mum. I just need some time."

"Promise to call me before you go to bed tonight?" she asked.

"I promise. I gotta go now. I love you; bye." Dan hung up as quickly as he could and walked back out to the hallway to find that Phil was standing outside the spare room.

Phil lifted an eyebrow. "Your mum?" he asked, stumbling over the two words.

Dan nodded. "She's worried." He hesitated, but knew he should probably explain a few things to Phil anyway, since he was staying in his house. "I kind of took off and didn't really tell her where I was going and… well yeah."

Phil nodded. He looked like he wanted to know more, but he thankfully didn't push it. "Alright, well, let's go finish up breakfast then?"

He flashed Dan a small, nervous smile, and Dan couldn't help but return it.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Eight of ?

Word Count: 1,790

Disclaimer: I don't own human beings.

Author's Note: OMG IT'S BEEN SO LONG HOW ARE YOU GUYS I MISSED YOU

.~.

After finishing breakfast in silence, Dan went to his room—Phil's guest room, ugh—to find something to wear today. He was realized that he really hadn't grabbed anything he liked in his hurry to leave home. He looked down into his messy bag with a sigh.

"You barely brought anything with you," Phil noted as he walked past Dan's room.

Dan turned around to look at him and sighed. "Yeah, well…" He shrugged, unsure what to say.

Phil looked unsure of how to respond for a second. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, rubbing his arm, then said, "I can show you where all the shops are today, so you could get some clothes." His voice was hesitant.

"Um, well," Dan said, trailing off. He glanced down at his bag. "Thanks, but I don't really have enough money to be buying clothes right now so…"

He was still kicking himself for the fact that he hadn't thought about his lack of funds when he left home. He probably wouldn't survive long in the real world with the little amount of money he had, so he'd have to go running home soon.

"Oh." Phil twisted his lips and looked around for a second. Then he blurted out, "I'll pay for it."

Dan was stunned. Had Phil seriously just volunteered to pay for his clothes? That wasn't something that random strangers just did for other strangers. Then again, it was also a little strange that Phil was letting him live there for now.

"R-really?" Dan asked. He looked back down at the sparsely filled bag sitting on his bed. He really did need clothes, and if Phil was offering, Dan wasn't going to deny him.

Phil nodded and shrugged at the same time. He cleared his throat before he said, "Why not? I can spare some money to keep you dressed."

Dan's heart flew up to his throat. God—Phil was so kind and it was kind of driving him insane. But of course Phil had no interest in him; he probably though Dan was just a kid. He _had_ called him "kid" earlier, right?

"Thank you so much," Dan said. He felt his shoulders drop in relief as he realized that he wouldn't have to worry about clothes now. He resolved to pick as cheap and as few items of clothing as he could so he didn't put Phil too far out.

Phil looked like he was going to say something, but he just nodded and walked away. A few moments later, the flat was filled with the sounds of a shower turning on.

Allowing his body to sag back onto the bed, Dan reached for his phone. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he needed to call someone. He needed to just call up a friend and tell them what had happened and vent about all his anger, frustrations, and fear.

He was about to hit his thumb against the contacts button on his phone, but he realized that he couldn't think of a single person who would let him just rant to them. And honestly, there wasn't anyone he trusted enough to tell about what had happened.

He dropped his phone back onto the bed. "This is just pathetic," he muttered to himself.

A sudden thought struck him: Would Phil let him vent?

No, that was ridiculous. Why should Phil have to listen to Dan rant when he'd already done so much for him? Phil seemed like such a good guy, and he didn't need Dan's problems bugging him.

Dan sighed and forced himself to get up. He started digging around in his bag for something to at least wear today while shopping. He managed to find a clean pair of jeans (they fit so Dan didn't think he'd need to buy another pair) but had to dig around all the clutter to try to find a shirt.

The shower turned off.

Tossing random things (things he didn't even know he'd grabbed) out of his bag, Dan continued his search. Finally he felt cloth rub against his fingers and he pulled it out. When he realized what shirt it was, Dan felt like he was going to puke.

It was the shirt he'd been wearing the night Marcus put him in the hospital. It had been his favorite shirt up to that point, so he hadn't been able to get rid of it, but parts of it were stained with blood, and the fact that it was white wasn't doing anything to hide the stains.

Dan was about to toss it under the sheets of his bed—to get it out of his sight before he threw up—when someone coughed. He jumped around to see Phil standing in the doorway; he was wearing two towels.

_Oh my God. He's not wearing any clothes. Holy shit. Don't freak out, Dan. It's just a naked guy. You've seen naked guys before. He's not even actually naked. He's like partially_—

"Is everything okay?" Phil asked, his voice sounding scratchy. "You look a little pale."

Dan meant to say that he was fine, but he lifted his hand with the shirt in it without thinking.

Phil's eyes traveled to it and he turned a bit pale too. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked quickly, stepping forward.

Though he wasn't sure why, Dan took a reflexive step backward. He shook his head. "No," he muttered. He glanced at the shirt and tossed it back into his bag. "They're old," he added, referring to the stains. "I guess that's the only shirt I brought."

Phil looked sad for a moment. Then, after a moment, he started to step out of the room. "Come on," he said, "You can wear something of mine today."

.~.

After getting Dan some clothes and showing him how the shower worked, Phil waited for the sound of the shower turning on then walked into his guest room. Dan's bag was sitting on the unmade bed, half closed. He carefully reached his hand in and pulled out the shirt Dan had been holding earlier.

Carefully, Phil unfolded it and stared at the stains. Those were definitely blood.

His stomach felt heavy as he tried to think about how Dan could've gotten those on his clothing. He knew the kid had run away from home and, adding that to the fact that Dan was a little flinchy, Phil was starting to think that the whole situation didn't look good.

What had happened to him?

Phil sighed as he stuck the shirt back in the bag. He'd already had to save Dan from one guy out to hurt him, and he was starting to wonder if he'd have to protect him from someone else too.

Sighing, Phil walked out of Dan's room and went back into his own to wait for Dan to finish showering.

.~.

"See anything you like?" Phil asked. He looked around at the racks of clothes surrounding him; he was already seeing things he wanted to buy for himself.

Dan looked unsure, but he walked over to a rack and started moving the shirts aside, looking at each one for only a fraction of a second. After a few moments, he shrugged. He looked cautiously over his shoulder at Phil.

Phil had to suppress a groan. "Okay, well what kind of clothes do you usually wear?" he asked.

This was weird. Normally, he was the one who wouldn't make conversation and was afraid of messing up, but Dan seemed to be the overly careful and uncommunicative of the two of them. Maybe Dan was bringing out a side of him that was actually normal for once.

"Uh… just like t-shirts, I guess," Dan responded.

"Alright, well… let's look over here." Phil led him over toward the back of the men's section where a wall was taken up with t-shirts. Most of them were plain, but a few of them had graphics on them. "Like anything?"

Dan didn't respond at first. He just looked at the shirts.

Phil sighed. "Well, I'm gonna go look around," he said, hoping that leaving would make Dan feel less pressured. "Just let me know when you've picked some stuff out. Get whatever you want." He shuffled over to look at plaid button-ups.

.~.

Dan stared at the clothes in front of him. It didn't take him long to decide that he should probably just get some plain shirts for now, especially since they were all he would have. He grabbed a blue t-shirt from its pile and glanced at the price tag—twelve pounds, that wasn't too bad, right?

He was holding it up against his chest to see if it would fit when he heard a crash. Spinning around quickly, he just caught sight of an entire rack falling on its side as someone cried out, "Oh!" Was that Phil's voice?

"Phil?" Dan walked over to the mess and looked down to see Phil trapped under a pile of plaid shirts. He looked like he was caught between embarrassment and amusement. "Are you okay?"

Phil looked up at him with red cheeks and grinned. "I've been better," he said. He tried to shove aside the pile of clothes on him and struggle up at the same time.

Dan stuck out the hand that wasn't holding a shirt. "Here."

Phil gratefully grabbed on to it and started to pull himself up, but his heel slipped and he tumbled back on his back, pulling on Dan's arm. Dan wasn't able to hold himself up and he fell with Phil, landing chest to chest with him. They barely got control over themselves before their faces smashed together.

It took Dan a few seconds to realize that ever part of himself other than his face was pressed up against Phil and he started to breathe heavily. Wow, this felt good. He could almost just lean down and kiss—

He barely had time to finish the thought before Phil was struggling out of the position. "Sorry, sorry," he was saying, desperately trying to put space between them. "Sorry."

Disappointment flooded through Dan's body and he sunk down a bit as Phil pulled himself from underneath Dan's body. This stupid crush was going too far; Phil obviously had no interest in him. "I found a shirt," he said meekly, hoping to get some approval from Phil.

Phil smiled. "Awesome," he said; he seemed to have already shed the awkwardness of the moment. "Why don't you go pick out a few more while I find someone who works here to help me clean all this up."

Dan shrugged and walked back over to the t-shirts, feeling regret and longing build up in his gut.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Nine of ?

Word Count: 1,143

Disclaimer: If I owned Dan and Phil, they would live in a much simpler apartment so I wouldn't have to keep writing as if they still lived in Manchester because their new apartment is crey crey.

Author's Note: heya! Sorry it's been so long; I've been all wrapped in the disaster that is my academics/mental health/life in general. It's short but I wanted to give you _something_.

.~.

On a normal day, Phil would have made his purchases then gone straight home to hole away for the rest of the day and night. (On a normal day, he wouldn't have been at the shopping center anyway.) However, with Dan here, he felt like he needed to take care of the kid with him, so he bought the clothes then started leading Dan toward a fast food place down the road.

They bought cheeseburgers then settled down at an outside table. Phil intentionally took the chair that faced the sun.

Phil hesitated to bite into his burger—he didn't know why, but he'd always had difficulty eating in front of people—but he gave in when Dan started to eat his.

"So," Phil started awkwardly as he set his burger down and reached for his soda. "You want to get some jeans or something after this?"

Dan didn't meet his eyes, but he shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thanks so much for the shirts though. This is the only one I had." He motioned to his chest, at the slightly stained shirt he was wearing. A slight blush spread across his cheeks.

Phil wanted to respond, but his brain wouldn't churn out a response fast enough, so he just ducked back toward his cheeseburger and took another bite. He could feel Dan looking at him, and his pulse kicked up its speed.

_Say something._

_But what?_

_Something! Anything! Don't look so stupid!_

_I'm trying but I don't know what to do!_

_God you're such an idiot. You can't even talk to this guy without fucking everything up_.

Phil gulped. He took another big chunk from his burger and chewed slowly. He stared down at the granite table and tried to pick out all the little chunks, counting them in his mind.

_Just say something_.

.~.

Dan felt his fingernails dig into his hamburger bun and touch the tomato beneath. Realizing what a jumbled mess he was making of his lunch, he set it down on the basket it had come in and cleared his throat. He noticed that Phil jerked at the noise but still didn't look up.

Wondering if he should try to say something, try to start conversation, Dan grabbed his cup—his stressed fingers pressed in on the cardboard—and sucked on the straw. All that came out was a hollow slurping sound.

He sighed. As he slowly stood to get more soda, he sensed Phil stand quickly. "I'll get it," Phil said, his voice sounding scratchy. He took Dan's cup and hustled away.

"Hm, well alright then," Dan muttered as he sat back down.

He's started to get used to Phil's strange silence, and he even kind of liked it sometimes, but he still found himself shocked by how purely awkward the man could be. Dan had met very few people who were as hard to hold a conversation with as Phil.

And, yet, Dan still found himself drawn to him. Hell—he'd nearly kissed half an hour ago amid a pile of wrinkled shirts. If Phil hadn't freaked out with apologies and shocked Dan back to reality, he probably would have actually done it.

What was it about Phil that was so alluring? Maybe it was some savior-saved complex that Dan would be over in a few days. Maybe it was just because Phil was older and mysterious and so untouchable.

So many possible explanations and all that Dan really knew was that he had a stupid, unavoidable, massive crush on Phil.

A few moments later, the very boy of Dan's affections was coming back with a full cup in his hand. He looked around every few steps, jerkily avoiding several collisions with other people. When he made it back to the table, he smiled and reached the cup out toward Dan.

Dan took it, but didn't pull away immediately, and felt his fingers overlap with Phil's. Normally, he wouldn't have noticed such a minute detail of the action, but he was so aware of everything to do with Phil that the simple moment made red spread over his cheeks and his face feel warm. He glanced up to realize that Phil seemed to have the same plight.

After what seemed to be a never ending moment, Phil drew his hand away and sunk down onto his chair. He went back to his burger without even looking up.

Dan forced himself not to let out a sigh and sat down.

.~.

When they got home, Phil walked swiftly from the front room straight to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut and disappeared.

Dan gulped. He slowly made his way to his room—_Phil's guest room!—_and set his new shirts on the ground by his bed. He fell back onto the sheets heavily. Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered how he could get Phil to stop being so closed off.

Or maybe… Just maybe… It hit him that maybe Phil was sick of him handing around and that was why he was so silent and not up for conversation.

Now that he thought about it, Phil had really only offered him a place to stay _for the night_. Dan was totally overstaying his welcome.

Dan looked longingly down at the bag of clothes.

But Phil was _so nice_.

Dan hadn't felt this safe, just lying in bed and thinking, in so long. He was so used to listening for stumbling steps on the stairs or the clink of a beer bottle being dropped into a trash can. He was so accustomed to that can't-breath feeling of waiting for his bedroom door to open.

He didn't want to leave.

Dan lugged his body out of the bed and grabbed the plastic bag of clothes. He made to throw them in his duffel bag but started to feel guilty, so he just threw it back onto the bed, along with the receipt. He then crouched down to zipper up his duffel bag.

Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked out of the room and looked at the door to Phil's. He debated telling Phil he was leaving, but he didn't want to bother him, so he just started trudging toward the door.

"What are you doing?" said a shaky voice from behind him.

Dan spun around and saw that Phil was staring at him with those strangely bright eyes. "I—uh," he tried to explain, "I thought I should leave. I mean… I…"

Phil blinked twice. "Do you _want_ to leave?" he asked.

Dan felt his mouth drop open, not sure how to respond. He gulped slowly then shook his head. He _really_ didn't want to leave.

"Then stay," Phil said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'd like you to stay."

A strong smile forced its way onto Dan's face.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Ten of ?

Word Count: 1,849

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: kind of short but I've been working on MY 4.0 THIS SEMESTER YAAAYYY.

.~.

"So—uh…" Phil looked around nervously. "Do you want to watch a movie or something?" he asked. He motioned toward the living room with a limp hand.

Dan shrugged. "Sure," he answered then went into his room to grab his phone.

They met in the living room. Dan flopped onto the couch as Phil crouched down to look at his movie selection. "What do you want to watch?" he asked as he ran his finger down the spines of the DVD cases. He started to list off the movies: "Scary Movie, Phantom of the Opera, Kill Bill, Moulin Rouge…"

"Moulin Rouge," Dan said, surprising himself. He hadn't meant to blurt it out, but he _loved_ that movie.

Phil lifted his eyebrows in surprise but shrugged and pulled the movie from its place on the rack. He popped it into the DVD rack as he turned on the TV simultaneously. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and plopped onto the couch next to Dan. He sat for a few seconds before choking out, "Do you—uh—want popcorn?"

Dan shrugged.

"I'll get some." Phil stood up and started walking toward the kitchen. "Go ahead and start the movie without me," he shouted back as he started rummaging through his cupboards.

Dan, figuring it wouldn't be rude if he had permission, grabbed the remote and hit play. The first song started to play (Nature Boy) and Dan found himself almost comforted by the familiarity of it. He'd watched this movie so many times he could probably recite the entire thing.

"Kettle corn or regular?" Phil's voice surprised him.

"Er. Either is fine," Dan answered. He turned back to the screen before glancing over into the kitchen to see Phil struggling to rip open a pack of popcorn. He smiled to himself, finding it almost _cute_.

_Ugh, there you go again, Dan. He doesn't like you. You're too young for him anyway. _

Dan lifted himself off the couch and said, "Do you need some help with that?"

Phil looked up, and his cheeks seemed to redden slightly. He extended his arm to hand the popcorn bag to Dan, but his hands were shaking so he dropped it before Dan could get a grip on it. "Oh, sorry," Phil stuttered, dropping down to pick it up. He grimaced.

"It's fine," Dan said, trying to smile encouragingly. He took the bag when Phil handed it to him for a second time. He ripped it open easily then passed it back.

Phil put it into the microwave and Dan was just about to tell him they could start the movie over when his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned, seeing his mum's picture pop up on the screen. "I'll be right back. Sorry," Dan said and slipped away to his room. He slid the green button to the right to answer the call. "Hey, Mum."

"Hey." That wasn't his mum's voice.

It took Dan a second, but he was able to place it as his brother's. "What do you want, Marcus?"

"I… I want…" Marcus was slurring, and Dan thought he could hear the phone shifting every few seconds, slipping in Marcus' unsteady hand. "I want you to—uh—to… come… come home."

Dan shifted the phone in his hand and glanced out to the hallway to make sure Phil wasn't listening. "You're drunk," he snapped when he knew he didn't have an eavesdropper.

"And you… you're… missing," was Marcus' retort. He paused for a moment to let out a deep breath. "Mum is… Mum's freakin' out an'… an' shit."

"Mum already called me. And I told her I'd call her before I went to bed tonight. Calm down for fucks sakes." Dan glanced down at his watch to make sure it wasn't obscenely late. "Now just give the phone to Mum or something."

"No!" The volume of Marcus' own voice seemed to surprise him because he immediately lowered it and nearly whispered, "If you don't come home right now, I'm gon'… gonna find you an'… and…."

Dan sighed. "Do what exactly?" he asked exasperatedly. He checked down the hallway again; Phil was still tucked away in the kitchen. "You're so drunk you're probably clutching onto the counter to stay upright right now."

He could see it now. Marcus would be wearing sweatpants and some old, ratty t-shirt. Most likely, he'd only have one sock on, having kicked the other off in his mid-day nap. His hands would be clutching tightly to the white counter, and his knuckles were sure as hell turning white from all the effort that he was putting into it.

"I may be drunk but I can still beat your ass," Marcus shouted.

Dan felt himself physically recoil. As much as he hated to admit it, Marcus could throw out some stupid threat and Dan would back down immediately, images of past fights flashing in his mind and spurring him on.

"Marc—" Dan cleared his throat, embarrassed at the way his voice cracked. "Marcus. Give the phone to mom."

"Get your ass home."

Dan sighed. "I can't deal with this right now," he muttered. "Goodbye, Marcus." He hung up the call, nearly flinching when he realized how much that would piss off Marcus.

He tossed the phone onto his—_Phil's_—bed and plopped down next to it. "You're safe here," he whispered to himself. He had to keep reminding himself that Marcus wasn't going to come stumbling through that door to beat the living hell out of him; the only person who would come in his room was Phil, and he'd probably be grinning and carrying a big bowl of popcorn, with no vicious intent.

The microwave beeped a few moments later, and Dan hauled himself up to go into the kitchen. Phil was pulling the popcorn out; he grinned as Dan entered. "It's kind of… er… burnt," he said, an embarrassed grin forcing itself on his face.

Dan shrugged. "That's fine. Burnt is the best kind."

Phil small smile pulled up into a full one and he started trudging back to the couch. He set the bowl on the coffee table then flopped backward onto the cushions.

Dan settled in as well and hit play on the remote. The movie had only been playing for about ten minutes before he felt his eyes slowly start to close.

.~.

"This is my favorite part," Phil whispered, leaning forward to grab another handful of popcorn. He noticed that he seemed to be the only one eating it.

Glancing over at Dan, he immediately felt like an idiot. The younger boy was curled up in the corner of the couch, his head lolled onto his shoulder, fast asleep. Phil couldn't help but notice that the way Dan's hair fanned across his forehead was extremely cute.

Phil sighed and stood up. He brushed popcorn crumbs off his shirt as he flipped off the TV and DVD player. He grabbed a blanket that had been crinkled up on the ground. He tossed it over Dan's strangely huddled form then lightly set his hand on Dan's forehead and was surprised when the younger man pulled back, almost instinctually.

Sighing, Phil started to walk toward his bedroom but stopped when he heard, "I'm sorry."

He turned and casually said, "It's fine. We can finish the movie tomorrow."

It took him a second to realize that Dan wasn't speaking to him. His eyes were scrunched tight, and his hands clutched tightly at the blanket that had just been thrown over him. "I'm sorry. _Please_, Marcus. No."

"Dan," Phil whispered. He'd already woken Dan from one nightmare, but he had heard that his method—grabbing Dan's shoulders and shocking him into consciousness—wasn't the best, so he tried to do it softly. He edged closer to the couch. "Dan, wake up."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _Please_!"

Phil grimaced. He couldn't listen to this anymore. He ripped the blanket form Dan's grasp and watched as the younger boy jump backward, ramming his back into the side of the couch. His eyes were wide, and his chest heaved. It seemed to take his eyes a while to cover the room before they settled on Phil. His mouth formed an '_oh'_.

"Are… Are you okay?" Phil asked.

_Ugh. Stupid question. Of course he's not okay. Look at him. _

"I… uh…" Dan gulped, wiped sweat from the sides of his neck, and looked around again. His eyes were still wide with fear. "I'm fine. Uh… I…"

Phil glanced around the room, trying to think of something to say. After a moment, he gulped out, "Do you—uh—wanna talk about it?"

Slowly, Dan started to shake his head. Then, after a few silent seconds, he switched it to a nod. "Yeah"—he licked his lips—"I kind of do."

Okay, he hadn't actually been expecting a _yes_. Phil gingerly sat down on the couch by Dan and tried to look like he was ready to listen. He'd never been good at the whole "body language" thing. "Alright," he said.

Dan grabbed the blanket that had been ripped from him and started to play with the frayed edges. He licked his lips then started, "Sometimes I just… get these… uh… nightmares. And they're usually…" He started to chew on his bottom lip but seemed to stop himself. "They're usually about my brother."

Phil was overly conscious of how he was positioning himself and his facial expression. He thought he was almost paying more attention to that than to Dan's speaking.

Dan's eyes moved to his fingers. "He… He gets drunk a lot and he… He loses his temper sometimes and I just…" He dropped his face into his hands and tried to gather his emotions together.

Phil awkwardly shifted his weight on the couch so he could lean toward Dan and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slowly. Mary did that sometimes and he supposed it was intended to be comforting for people who actually liked human contact.

Without any warning, Dan threw himself into Phil's embrace, and Phil found himself with an armload of Dan snuggled against his chest. He smiled slightly and continued to rub the younger boy's back. After a moment, Dan looked up and whispered, "I'm sorry."

He started to pull away.

Before Phil could even think to stop himself, he had darted his head forward and pressed his lips against Dan's. He hadn't been able to help himself; Dan being that close was just so frustrating—in more ways than one.

Dan pulled away after a moment and stared at him just long enough to let the doubt settle into Phil's mind.

_Ugh. Why did you do that! He just wanted a little comfort out of you and you practically molest him! Watch. He's gonna go get his stuff and be out that door faster than you can say "see ya"._

"Oh," Dan whispered. Then he glanced down and back up quickly before lurching forward and pulling Phil back into a kiss.

_Oh_.

Phil smiled against Dan's lips.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Eleven

Word Count: 1,592

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: Guess who's back.

.~.

Dan woke up the next morning feeling considerably more rested than he had in a while. He grinned as the memories of last night flooded back to him. "I really like you," Phil had whispered between desperate kisses, and Dan has responded, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that."

He didn't really know how long they'd stayed curled up together, kissing and whispering, but eventually he'd had to pull away and say, "I have to call my mom before she goes to bed."

And when he'd called her, they only got the chance to exchange hellos before she said, "I can hear the smile in your voice. What happened?" and he'd had to lie himself out of it, not sure if he wanted to tell his mom about the twenty three year old he'd just made out.

Dan, hearing voices from the kitchen, threw aside his blankets and stumbled out of bed so fast he nearly fell. He stumbled over to throw on a shirt.

As strange and girly as it was, he couldn't wait another second to see Phil. He just kept remembering images of Phil grinning down at him and feeling giddiness flush through him.

He made his way quickly down the hallway, getting to the kitchen just soon enough to hear Phil say, "Yeah of course I can. You got a date?"

A woman giggled. "Yeah."

"Sweet," Phil replied, sounding genuine. He laughed. "What time do you need me to be over?"

"Five?"

"Sounds good." Phil glanced down at his mug then looked up just in time to see Dan hovering in the doorway. "Good morning!" he said, a little louder than necessary. "I made you breakfast." He stood from where he'd been sitting at the kitchen table and walked over to the stove. He scooped scrambled eggs out of a skillet and onto a plate. Then he reached into the toaster and pulled out some toast, tossing it next to the eggs.

He set the plate on the table at an empty chair. "Bon appetite," he said, grinning.

Dan looked at the woman sitting at the table as well. He recognized her from when she'd shown up that night. What was her name? He was a little wary of her but cautiously walked over and sat down just as Phil set a fork next to the plate.

"Thanks," he whispered.

He looked up to see that the woman was giving Phil a knowing look, grinning far too widely for her thin, almost sickly looking face.

Dan ducked his head down but lifted his eyes so he could watch Phil sit down again. Their eyes met for a moment and they both smiled at each other.

After a moment, Phil turned to the woman and said, "So five? I'll be over." Then he looked at Dan. "I'm going next to door to watch Mary's daughter tonight. You can either come with me or stay here or I guess go out if you know where you're going but…"

"I'll go with you," Dan said suddenly. He loved the thought of spending more time with Phil and he'd never go for the option that kept them apart. "How old is she?"

He expected Phil to answer, but instead the woman did: "Eight."

Then she leaned across the table and stuck out her hand. It was pale. "I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said, smiling in a way that was obviously an attempt to be encouraging. "I'm Mary. I live next door with my daughter."

Slowly, Dan took her hand and shook it. "Dan," he said. "I… I'm staying with Phil."

"And how do you know Phil?" she asked as she retracted her hand and settled back into her chair. She picked up a mug, sipping from it while she waited for an answer.

Dan looked over at Phil. He felt irrationally unnerved about the question and he wasn't quite sure how to answer. "We're uh… friends," he answered when he got an encouraging, comforting smile from Phil.

Mary didn't say anything for a moment. "Well," she eventually sighed, "I'd better be going. I've got to get Brit to school." She stood and left.

When she was gone, Phil stood and walked around the table to stand by Dan. "Good morning," he said quietly. Then, jerkily, he leaned down and pecked Dan's cheek.

Dan felt a hot blush creep up his neck and over his face. "Good morning," he replied. Then he looked up and met Phil's eyes. "How'd you sleep?" he asked.

Phil sat in the chair next to Dan's and answered, "Very well. You?"

"Awesome."

"Are you sure you're up for babysitting tonight?" Phil asked. He reached out to set his hand on top of Dan's, which was resting on the table. He looked concerned, his bright eyes dipping down to meet Dan's. "You were exhausted last night."

Dan shrugged. "I got a lot of sleep," he explained. He wanted to say something cute and romantic but found that he couldn't think of anything. He gulped and took a bite of his eggs. He focused on his food so he didn't have to think about how stupid he was when faced with a totally sexy, nice guy who seemed to like him.

When he'd finished eating, he quietly said, "I'm gonna go take a shower."

He slipped away, mentally slapping himself for his pure awkwardness.

.~.

They passed the day by finishing Moulin Rouge then moving on to other movies from Phil's collection. They were kind of half cuddling on the couch—not completely curled around each other but there was some limb touching; that counted, right?

Phil wasn't really sure how stuff like this went. He hadn't had any real boyfriends in high school, and he'd mostly kept to himself after graduation, so all of this was totally foreign to him.

Dan didn't seem to mind though. He kept glancing over at him, and whenever Phil caught him, he'd blush and quickly look away. He didn't push for more cuddling or act like he wanted more, so Phil tried to push down his anxieties.

At five, they both walked across the hall to Mary's apartment.

"Mr. Lester! Mr. Lester!" Brit tackled Phil as soon as they stepped inside.

He quickly gathered her up into her arms and held her against his chest securely. She was getting a bit big for someone as weak as him to carry around, but Phil was going to deny that for as long as he could. "Hi, Sweety," he said, ruffling her hair.

Dan stood in the doorway awkwardly. He waved to Mary, who was gathering things into her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.

Phil pointed toward Dan. "This is my friend," he said, trying to sound casual. He was glad that he would've called Dan a friend to Brit no matter their relationship, since he didn't really know what he was to Dan now. "His name is Dan and he's gonna hang out with us tonight."

Brit spent a few seconds looking at Dan with her eyebrows pressed down. Eventually she'd stared long enough and her facial expression softened. "Hi, Dan!" she shrieked.

Mary walked over, kissed Brit on the cheek, and started to head toward the door. "I love you," she said as she started pulling it shut behind her. "Thank you so much, Phil, Dan." Then it clicked shut and she was gone.

Phil set Brit down and put his hands overdramatically on his hips. "So—who's feeling up for some mac 'n cheese?"

.~.

After they'd made and eaten enough macaroni to keep them full for the night, Brit dragged both of the boys into the living room and pulled out a deck of cars. "Go Fish!" she shouted as she plopped it down onto the coffee table. She sat cross-legged and looked up at them.

Phil chuckled. "Alright, one game," he said and sat down with Dan settled in next to him.

One game turned into two—and two into three—before they were having an all-out tournament.

Dan stared down at his hand of cards. "Uh… Phil…" He frowned. "Do you have an ace?"

Phil shook his head, grinning. "Nope," he said proudly. He cast a shy smile at Dan before blushing and ducking back down to stare at the 7, queen, and king he held in his hand. "Brit, do you have—"

"Do you too like each other?" Brit interrupted. She was staring at them with big owl eyes, chewing on an M&M.

Dan looked over at Phil uncertainly, and Phil mirrored his unsure expression. Did they like each other? Well they _had_ spent a lot of last night making out, so that had to count for something, right? Phil searched Dan's expression for an answer, wanting to say _yes_ but also knowing better than to show too much interest with Dan right there.

To Phil's relief, Dan did a sort of half-nod-half-shrug and Phil took this as permission to say _yes_.

He prepared to say it but lost his nerve and asked, "Why would you ask that?"

Brit sighed. "Cause you guys always brush your hands against each other's and I know you mean too even though you try to make it accidental, and you keep giving him the googly eyes that Mummy always gives to Trent and _duh_."

Phil chuckled. "Yes, we like each other very much," he answered, giving a side glance to Dan, who was suddenly smiling. "Now, do you have a 7?"


	12. Chapter 12

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Twelve

Word Count: 1,526

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: yo yo yo. Everything from here on is totally planned and I'm so stoked to write it. Also, I'm repeating this again: come be loved by me on tumblr. My url is kellylikescats

.~.

They got home around ten, and they barely made it through the door before Dan was on Phil, kissing him and running his hands down his back.

Phil froze, unaccustomed to sudden contact. Soon though, he melted into Dan's hold and returned the kiss. He felt himself be pushed against the wall, and he leaned backward as Dan continued to deepen their kiss.

What had gotten into Dan? He wasn't normally this forward, but Phil couldn't complain.

As strange as this all was to him, he liked it. He loved the feel of Dan's hands running down his neck and back, and he couldn't get enough of Dan's muscles tensing under Phil's fingers. He ached for more contact with Dan's lips. And—_oh_—Dan's smell was so perfect and sexy.

"You're so perfect," Phil whispered, running his fingers up to tangle in Dan's hair.

Dan chuckled. "_Please_," he scoffed out.

Phil pulled away for a second. He felt his lips go dry, unsure of what to say as always. After a few stomach-flipping seconds, he said, "No, I'm serious." He dropped his head down to nuzzle into Dan's collarbone. "Let me take you on a date."

Dan looked up to meet Phil's eyes. He smiled and said, "You kind of already did—lunch the other day."

Phil shook his head, letting his hands slip back down to Dan's back. He pulled the boy closer to him, if it was possible. "No," he responded, "a real date. I pay the bill, we go somewhere fun for the two of us, the entire night's about you."

Dan seemed to think for a second. "You're being strangely brave tonight," he noted. "But alright. I'm gonna hold you to that. When?"

"Right now."

"You've got to be k—"

Phil interrupted Dan by kissing him. Now that he knew he was allowed to kiss and touch and adore this perfect man in front of him, he found himself unable to do anything else. He'd been itching for something romantic since Dan showed up, and now he finally had it.

When he pulled away, Dan grinned. "Okay," he whispered. "Let me go get changed." He slipped away.

Phil breathed out shakily. Had he really just done that? He'd been so assertive and strong and so _not him. _And somehow he'd managed to make Dan agree to going on a date with him. How the hell had he even managed that without groveling or bribery?

He walked to his bedroom to put on some more date-worthy clothes—he was still wearing a cheese stained t-shirt.

As he was pulling a button-down out of his closet, it occurred to him that this might not be a very good idea. How was he supposed to handle and entire night out with someone, especially someone he didn't even know that well? He could barely handle dinner with Mary without ending up staring over the edge of a building.

_Don't think like that. It'll be fine. _

_Yeah, right. You're gonna screw it up, and you know it. _

Phil's fingers started shaking too much to work buttons halfway through putting the shirt on, and he rushed to the bathroom. His stomach tossed and flipped, and he knew that he was going to puke. He knelt in front of the toilet just in time for the macaroni from earlier to fall into the water below him.

_You're so pathetic. This date is going to go terribly. _

Wetness started to build up in the corner of Phil's eyes. He fought desperately to keep it from spilling onto his cheeks.

_Such a stupid piece of shit._

_No. No. No._

_I can't do this._

"Are you okay?"

Phil jumped and turned his head to see Dan standing in the bathroom doorway. He hurriedly wiped his mouth. "I—uh—uh…"

Dan walked forward to crouch next to Phil. Hesitantly, he set his hand on Phil's back and started to rub. "Are you feeling sick?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Phil nodded. "I just… Maybe we should do our date tomorrow instead."

It took a few moments, but a look of realization flashed across Dan's face. "_Oh_," he muttered. "Ya know what. I've got a better idea." He stood quickly and rushed off.

Phil shifted his weight back so he was sitting instead of huddled over the toilet. He knew he should go see what Dan was doing but he really didn't have the willpower to. He knew that Dan was most likely realizing what an un-datable, unlovable person Phil was.

Forever seemed to pass before Dan walked back in. "Come here," he said happily. "I wanna show you something."

Phil blinked in confusion but then stood and followed Dan out to the living room. The couch had been pushed aside a little, and a blanket was spread out on the ground by the TV. There was a plate with two sandwiches set in the middle.

"It's a date," Dan said quietly, his cheeks starting to redden. "We can watch a movie and I won't fall asleep this time." He licked his lips. "Never mind, it's stupid. I just—"

"No," Phil stopped him. "This is great" He smiled at Dan.

Dan looked relieved. He'd started walking over to the blanket and sat down, reaching for a sandwich. He handed it to Phil, who was settling in on the ground next to him.

"Alright," Dan said, smiling, "so what movie?"

They decided to put in _Kill Bill_, and about halfway through the movie, both of them were stretched out on the blanket.

Phil looked over at Dan and felt himself suck in air too quickly. The younger man was stretched out in just a way that made him look beyond perfect. His hair flopped easily over his forehead, and his new shirt stretched over his lithe body.

Not thinking, Phil stretched his arm out to pull Dan closer to his body. Dan let out a noise of contentment and snuggled closer to the warmth of Phil's chest.

Phil smiled, nestling his face in Dan's hair. This felt so perfect, and he didn't want this moment to ever end.

Unfortunately, just as the credits were beginning to roll, Dan's phone rang. It had been flung onto the couch, so he had to awkwardly climb over Phil's body to grab it. He blushed as he felt his chest rub against Phil's, despite the fact that they'd been snuggled together for the better part of an hour.

He hit 'answer' quickly. "Yeah?"

"Dan?" It was his mum.

"Hi, Mum," he said quietly and glanced over at Phil, who tilted his head to the side. "It's a bit late—"

"You need to come home," she said abruptly. Her voice cracked at odd points, and Dan could tell she'd been crying just by the strained ting in her voice.

He adjusted his hold on the phone. "What? Why the sudden—"

"I've been lying in bed and all I can think about is how my baby is out there and I don't know where you are or if you're safe or even who you're staying with," she said, interrupting him and not seeming to care. She let out what sounded like a half-sob.

"Mum…" Dan felt the guilt build up in him.

"Please," she begged. "I need to _know_ that you're safe."

He sighed and looked over at Phil—perfect, loving Phil, who cuddled with him and hugged him and woke him up from nightmares. Dan would give anything not to leave Phil behind, but he knew he couldn't just leave his mum to be a mess like this when he could control it.

"Alright," he whispered, casting an apologetic glance at Phil. "I'll drive home tomorrow morning."

The sadness that immediately crossed over Phil's face was devastating. Dan reached out toward him and let his hand settled over Phil's. He mouthed, 'I'm sorry.'

Phil just shrugged, trying unconvincingly to look like he didn't care.

"Go back to be, Mum. I'll see you tomorrow," Dan mumbled.

She said, "Okay. I love you, honey."

"Love you too."

Dan hung up and sighed. He brushed the hair from his eyes, trying not to think about how he would have to go back to live with Marcus tomorrow. He looked at Phil's sad eyes and whispered, "I don't want to leave."

Phil slowly pulled him into a hug and stroked his hair comfortingly. "It's okay. It's okay. Here." He reached around Dan to grab Dan's phone and type something in quickly before going back to holding Dan. "Now you can call me whenever you want, okay?"

Dan pulled away slightly to look up at Phil. "So this… us… it doesn't have to end?" he asked.

He was so scared. Phil was so perfect, and Dan had been so close to having him, but Phil was too good for him. Why would he want to hold out for someone five years younger than him who he couldn't even see all the time?

"Of course," Phil whispered. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Dan felt relief wash over him, and he reached up to give Phil a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Thirteen

Word Count: 1,429

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: … hi guys.

.~.

Dan threw the last of his new shirts into his duffel bag and started to zip it up. The zip caught on the fabric halfway up, and he couldn't free it no matter how hard he tried. "Goddamn it," he muttered under his breath, tugging so hard the duffel bag tumbled from the bed. "Shit!"

Phil ran into the room. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking around with wide eyes. When he saw the duffel bag, he sighed and walked over to grab it.

Dan slumped back to sit on his bed and dropped his face into his hands.

Phil sat down next to him. "You're freaking out," Phil observed as he slowly fixed the zipper and finished closing the bag. He set it down on the ground then pulled Dan closer to him. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Dan set his head on Phil's chest. He shrugged.

Sighing, Phil set his hand on Dan's head and hesitated for a second. "You know that anytime you need me, I'll be there, right? I mean—all you have to do is call and I'll just…"

"Yeah of course." Dan pulled away a little to look up at Phil, wondering why Phil's voice was sounding so strained. "Are _you_ going to be okay?" he asked.

Phil ruffled his hair and shrugged. "I'm just worried. I mean…" He looked away for a second, biting his lip. "Don't laugh, okay?" he finally said.

Dan nodded.

"I'm scared to send you back," Phil admitted. Before Dan could open his mouth to ask why, Phil continued, "I mean—the nightmares, and you flinch, and that shirt just had so much _blood_ on it." His voice broke, and he looked down to meet Dan's eyes.

"You're scared for me," Dan realized. He pulled away. "I—"

Phil interrupted, "And you mentioned about your brother and how he… and I just…"

Dan set his hand on Phil's face to get his attention. "I'll be fine." He hesitated for a moment. "I've got my parents to protect me—and now I've got you," he said, forcing a small, reassuring smile. "So don't worry about me, okay?"

Phil nodded slowly. "Okay." He pecked Dan on the lips and stood. "How about breakfast before you go?"

It was obvious to Dan how hard Phil was searching for reasons to keep him here for as long as possible, and while he found it sweet, he knew he'd have to leave eventually. "Just a quick one," he said, not wanting to draw out the pain of leaving.

.~.

Dan turned on the radio in his car and looked down at the directions he'd printed out. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he glanced back in his rearview mirror to see Phil still standing outside, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. Dan waved, and watched the mirror until Phil noticed and waved back.

Eventually he had to turn and could no longer see Phil. He sighed.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Time to go back to reality."

He glanced down at the directions again and mentally noted what exit he was supposed to be looking for. His eyes scanned the side of the road. Once he'd found the right exit and pulled onto the motorway, he knew he'd be going straight for a while and tossed the directions onto the seat next to him.

With nothing interesting to look at or worry about, Dan allowed his mind to wander. He thought about Phil, who'd looked so sad to let Dan go. Part of him was worried more about Phil than he was about going home. When Dan had first seen him, Phil was standing at the edge of a building, and while Dan had thought it was best not to ask him about it, the implications there were pretty clear. For all Dan knew, Phil could just be waiting for him to leave so he could actually jump this time.

"Don't think like that," Dan said to himself. He turned the radio volume higher and tried to focus solely on the road before he started to worry too much.

Eventually, he pulled off the motorway and made his way through the twists and turns to get to his house.

After getting into the driveway, Dan hesitated to pull the keys out of the ignition. If he really wanted to, he could just turn back right now and go running back to Phil. It would be easy, and he would never have to face his family (mainly Marcus) ever again.

But that was stupid, he realized. He pulled the keys out and shoved them in his pocket.

He grabbed his duffel bag from where he'd thrown it onto the passenger seat then slowly got out of the car.

He'd barely taken a step toward the front door before his mum came bursting out. She ran quickly over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. "Oh, I've missed you," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You too, Mum," he said, pulling out of the hug slowly. "How've things been without me?"

She grabbed the duffel bag from his hands and they started walking in together. His mum started to chatter about how she and his dad had been for the past few days. She spoke for a few moments then faltered. "And your brother…"

"Ran off and got drunk?" Dan finished for her, not bothering to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Surprise, surprise."

She sighed. They'd made it to the door, and she set her hand on the doorknob. "Just try not to provoke him?" she said quietly.

Dan rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried not to huff. "We talked about the enabling, Mum," he said.

"I'm doing the best I can, Daniel."

And he knew that she was. As much as Dan wished she would just kick Marcus out for Dan's sake, Marcus was her son too—it really wouldn't be fair to care for one and allow the other to spiral even farther down in life.

They walked into the house slowly and made their way to the living room. His dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and he turned when Dan came in. "Hey! Good to have you back!" he said. It was obvious that he was trying to look casual about it but the relief was evident in his eyes.

"Hi, Dad," Dan said. "So—uh—I'm just gonna go up to my room." He took the bag from his mum and walked upstairs.

.~.

Phil pattered around the apartment for the next hour or so, wondering what he should do now that Dan wasn't here. He had plenty of chores and shopping to catch up on, but he didn't feel up to doing those. He supposed he could clean up the room Dan was staying in.

Deciding that was the most productive thing he could do with minimal effort, he made his way into the room.

Phil was about to strip the sheets when he looked around. The pillow was pulled down a little from the headboard, like Dan had brought it to closer to himself rather than move toward it.

In a weird way, Phil was reluctant to erase the evidence that Dan had been there. With Dan gone now, Phil had no way of reassuring himself that he even existed. He was already finding it hard to believe that someone who cared about him and who wanted to be around him even existed. Nobody had ever been like that with him, and he needed to remind himself that Dan did, or he would go crazy.

He was about to force himself to clean it all up when his phone started to ring. It was Dan.

"Hey!" he answered, trying not to sound to enthusiastic.

Dan's voice sounded weary. "Hi, Phil. I'm home."

"Are you okay?" Phil asked. He sat down on the side of the bed that Dan never slept on. "You sound upset."

There was a rustling that probably meant Dan had shrugged. "I'm fine. My parents are glad to have me back. I haven't run into my brother. He's holed up in his room and probably hung-over as fuck." He paused. "I miss you already though. Is that weird?"

"No, I miss you too," Phil admitted. He ran his hand over the sheet next to him.

Dan paused again. "My mum's calling me. I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"Okay." Phil hesitated for a second then said, "I love you."

"I… love you too."


	14. Chapter 14

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Fourteen

Word Count: 1,206

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: You guys are too good at guessing. Stop spoiling the story for yourselves, silly heads.

.~.

Dad sat down for dinner in his usual spot, across from his brother's chair. He glanced at the stairs and wondered if Marcus would show his face at all today.

His parents both sat down slowly and started passing food back and forth. It took them a few moments to realize Dan wasn't reaching for any of the dishes. "Aren't you hungry?" his mum asked, concerned. She tried to push the dish of boiled carrots toward him.

"Huh?" Dan looked up at her and blinked a few times. "Oh, yeah, uh…" He grabbed the dish and spooned a pile of carrots onto his plate.

He glanced at the staircase, expecting his brother to appear at the top of it any moment. Forcing himself to look down, Dan started to pick at his carrots.

His mum sighed and forced him to take the platter with chicken on it. He forced a smile as he took it from her and served himself a small helping.

As he was putting it down, his mum said, "So. Anything interesting happen in your time away?" She was trying to sound casual, but Dan knew this was her disguised way of making sure he hadn't gotten into too much trouble.

"Someone tried to mug me in a parking garage and I nearly bit his finger off," he said bluntly, cutting off a piece of chicken and popping it into his mouth. He hoped that would be stunning enough for his parents that they wouldn't push for more.

He still hadn't decided if he was going to tell them about Phil. He hadn't even come out yet, so how would they react to him already having a sort-of-kind-of-boyfriend? Plus, he didn't think they'd be very happy about him staying with a twenty three year old he also made out with.

Dan's dad started laughing and had to put his silverware down so he could cover his face. "You nearly bit o—" He dissolved into another fit of laughter.

"This isn't funny," his mum scolded her husband. She turned to Dan. "You said you were safe," he said accusingly, worry dancing in her eyes.

Dan sighed. "I was, Mum. Somebody helped me out and it was all fine from there."

His dad sobered immediately. "Yeah, who's this mysterious friend we don't know about that you stayed with?" He picked up his silverware again and returned to eating.

"Oh—uh." Dan gulped. "I lied; we hadn't met until they helped me out with the mugger and offered to let them stay with me for a few days." It suddenly hit him just how sketchy that sounded, and he gulped, anticipating his parents' reactions.

"_And you just went home with them_?" his Mum shrilled.

Dan glanced at the staircase before responding, "Yeah, I guess." He shrugged then looked at the stairs again; he could've sworn he'd heard a creak up there.

"You could've been killed!"

"I wasn't." Dan sighed. "Anyway, so I stayed with them for a few days and uh…" He was going to do it, he decided. He could do it. "We kind of hit it off, and I guess we're sort of together now."

His dad started laughing again, and his mum just looked cynical.

"That's my boy!" his dad said, ignoring a pointed glare from his wife. "What's her name?"

Dan licked his lips and kept his eyes down at his full plate. "Actually…" His voice cracked over the one word. His heart beat against his chest madly. "Um…" He glanced up at his parents for a second before looking down again. "_His_ name is Phil."

There was a moment of silence in which he could almost feel the air choking him.

"So are you a faggot now?"

Dan opened his mouth to defend himself before realizing it hadn't been either of his parents. He snapped his head up to see Marcus standing at the top of the staircase.

Marcus was looking more than a little haphazard. His clothes were stained, his eyes were red, and his hair obviously hadn't been brushed yet today. He had a sneer plastered across his paled face.

"Marcus," their mum snarled. She stood abruptly, and Dan tried to figure out if the anger on her face was for him or his brother. He was answered when she bit out, "I don't want to hear that out of your mouth again, got it?"

Dan watched as his brother rolled his eyes and started walking down the stairs. He felt a weight on his hand and looked over to see his dad smiling at him. He forced himself to smile back.

.~.

Phil was dashing across the kitchen to grab his phone and answer it before the first ring had even finished. He gasped out, "Hi!"

There was a pause. "You okay, Phil?"

Gasping for breath, Phil said, "Yeah, I just… had to… run to get… the phone." He blushed.

"A little out of shape there?" Dan chuckled.

Phil giggled. "Shut up."

Dan was silent for a moment then he softly said, "I hope it's okay—I told my family about you."

Phil sucked in a breath. Of course it was okay; it was _fantastic_. It blew his mind that Dan cared about him enough to want to tell his family. "Yeah, that's great," Phil said. "How'd they—ya know—take it?"

"My parents are surprisingly supportive. I even told them that I stayed with you without knowing who you were—my mum nearly had a heart attack, but they aren't mad or anything. My brother is another story, but I was going to ask—"

Phil snarled, and he couldn't help but interrupt Dan. "Your brother? Did he do anything?" He felt a protective instinct that he'd only ever felt toward Brit and Mary rise up.

"No, no, he just mouthed off a little," Dan responded. He sounded casual, so Phil allowed himself to calm down a little. "Anyway, so I told my parents about you and now…" Dan took a deep breath. "They say they want to meet you—and I know you don't really like meeting new people, so you don't have to if you don't want to, but it would mean a lot of it you would come up here sometime. I just—"

"Of course, I'll come," Phil interrupted.

Oh God—how was he going to do this? He knew that promising to meet Dan's parents was what was expected of him—especially since they had a kind of thing going—but how was he supposed to handle it? He could barely have conversations with people he knew. Hell—he could barely go on a date with Dan.

The smile could almost be heard in Dan's voice as he said, "Really? Great! Whenever you're free"—even though they both knew Phil was always free—"my mum wants you to come for dinner. Plus, I really miss you so…"

"Well…" Phil took a deep breath. "You know me. I'm always free. So whenever is fine."

"Tomorrow?"

_Tomorrow?_ Why so soon? He barely had time to mentally prepare himself for it, but he had to at least try to go through with it—for Dan if for nothing else.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."


	15. Chapter 15

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, sibling abuse, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Fifteen

Word Count:

Disclaimer: nope.

Author's Note: kind of (really) short but I wanted the next part to be part of a separate chapter sooooo

.~.

Phil had had the car running for—he checked the clock—ten minutes now, but he hadn't gotten up the courage to reverse out of the parking spot yet. He'd originally been glad that Mary was willing to lend him her car; that was the only way he'd be able to avoid the awkwardness and tension that built up when he took public transport. But now he wished he'd taken a train, so he couldn't keep putting off when he left.

He'd been ready to go for half an hour, but it had taken him a while to get over his nerves enough to go the car, and now he couldn't bring himself to start driving.

"Come on," he muttered, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "I have to go eventually."

He mentally ran through how the day should go: He would get there sometime in the late afternoon, have time to get to know the Howells, have a nice dinner, and then be headed home not too late. It sounded like a simple plan, but it filled his stomach with a sick, wriggling feeling.

Phil's hands were shaking as he slowly set them on the steering wheel again.

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

He slowly put the car in reverse and stepped on the gas. As he turned out of the parking space, he tried to squash down his insecurities, only for them to rear up even harder.

What if Dan's parents hated him? It wasn't exactly hard to hate Phil, and he knew it: he was awkward, he avoided conversation at all cost, and he tended to say things that people took offensively even if he hadn't meant it that way.

Heck—they'd probably hate him even more than he hated himself, and that was a feat within itself.

But then again… What if they were like Dan?—accepting, loving, willing to look past bad traits to dig for the good ones.

Phil couldn't think of anything better than a family full of Dan-like people.

Okay, maybe this wouldn't turn out so badly. Maybe he would enjoy himself. Maybe they would tolerate him at least.

Phil pulled onto the motorway feeling a little bit encouraged. As pessimistic as he was, he had to admit there was a chance—however small—that today could go well. He didn't have to take public transport, and he got to see Dan. There were good points.

He drove along happily. He stayed surrounded by pretty much the same cars the entire time, and there wasn't much traffic, so it was a mostly peaceful drive. He kept the radio blaring to make sure his mind stayed occupied.

It wasn't until he'd made it almost halfway that Phil started to think negatively again.

He would mess it all up; he could feel it. He was doing this for Dan, but what if all he did was case trouble for him? Phil knew that it wasn't easy for people when their families didn't like people they were dating—and, if Dan's family disliked him as they undoubtedly would, Dan shouldn't have to deal with the inner conflict that would create.

Maybe he should just turn around.

But then Dan would be disappointed.

But he'd be disappointed if Phil screwed it all up anyway.

_Fuck, you can't do anything right, can you?_

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

_Maybe if you weren't such a piece of shit, we wouldn't be having these problems, huh?_

_It's not my fault. _

_Oh stop lying to yourself. _

Phil pulled his hands off the steering wheel and buried his face in them without thinking. It wasn't until a few moments later when he felt the car veer a little that he realized where he was. He jerked his hands back to the wheel and looked around frantically.

He shouldn't be driving when he was like this.

Phil slowly worked his way into the leftmost lane and pulled out at the first exit he could.

Cold sweat was starting to sprout out, and he could feel it bunching up at the base of his neck. His hands were shaking even more than they had been earlier, and his vision was starting to blur and sway.

_Get it together. _

As soon as he'd pulled to the side of the road, Phil put the car in park and set his head on the steering wheel. He tried to even out his breaths like Mary had told him to try, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

_See this? This is why you always fuck everything up. Maybe people wouldn't hate you if you didn't freak out every time you got upset. _

_Fuck._

Involuntary tears sprung up in the corners of his eyes. He tried to fight them back, but soon they were streaming down his cheeks, gathering at his chin before dripping down to his chest.

He glanced sideways to look at the clock and saw how late it was getting. He should be at the Howells' soon, but here he was having a meltdown on the side of the road.

Phil knew he had to do something to keep from never showing up and disappointing Dan even more.

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His thumb found Dan's contact and hit "call" instinctually. A few rings later, Dan's voice said, "Hi, Phil! Are you almost here? Are you lost? Do I need to give you directions?"

"_Dan_," he tried to say it firmly, but it came out shakily and scared instead.

Dan took a moment to respond. "Phil? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Phil stopped and sat up, wiping his eyes with his wrist. "I guess I just kind of freaked out and…"

"Phil. Where are you?"

Phil told him what exit he'd taken then said, "I don't think I should be driving right now, Dan. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do."

"It's okay. It's okay." It sounded like Dan was moving around and mumbling to people. "I'll be right there."


	16. Chapter 16

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Sixteen

Word Count: 1,158

Disclaimer: nope

Author's Note: ah please don't yell at me I'm sorry. I know it's been a while but—hey—I have a life, and a busy one at that. I've been distracted, and stressed out, and been dealing with some medical issues and I'm sorry ok

.~.

"It's okay, Dad," Dan said pulling open the door to Phil's car. "Just head back; I'll drive him home."

His dad walked back to the car and drove away after a few moments.

Dan leaned into the car. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder and shook it. "Hey, Phil, you okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

Phil slowly looked over at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair was plastered down with sweat, but otherwise he looked fine. "I'm fine," he said quietly. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Dan answered. He checked to make sure the keys were in the car's ignition. "You wanna get into the passenger seat and I'll drive us the rest of the way?"

Phil did as he was told without saying anything. He shifted around in his seat as Dan climbed into the driver's seat and adjusted the seat to fit his legs. After a few moments, Dan put the car in drive.

He knew better than to ask Phil about his break down. That would just mean dredging up all the negative thoughts Phil had probably been trying to wrestle down. Maybe later, Dan would try to get him to talk about it—but right now they were half an hour away from his family's house and he didn't want Phil to be too upset when they got there.

Dan glanced over to see that Phil had moved to crossing and uncrossing his hands while slumped slightly in his chair.

"Let's turn the radio on," Dan said. He leaned forward and put it on some random pop station.

As he leaned back and pushed his hair out of his face, he asked, "So are you gonna be okay to meet my family? Or do you want to go just straight up to my room and meet them later?" He glanced away from the road long enough to see Phil uncurling a little bit.

Phil frowned. He cleared his throat and said, "Whatever you want to do."

Dan let out a huff and shook his head. "_Phil_."

Scratching the back of his head, Phil shrugged. "I'll just meet your family when we get there," he mumbled. He wouldn't look at Dan.

"Okay," Dan said, trying not to sound too forceful, "what's the problem here? I need to know what's bothering you before we get there."

He hated how frustrated that had sounded, because that would just make Phil even more uncomfortable, but he needed to make sure he wasn't throwing Phil into a situation he wasn't ready for.

Phil shrugged again and turned to stare out the window. After a few moments, he finally said, "They're gonna hate me."

Dan's hand ran along the steering wheel until they met at the bottom. "They'll love you, Phil," he assured him. "My mum already adores you just from what I've told her."

Phil didn't respond, so Dan sighed and turned his attention back to the road.

They got to Dan's house quickly and soon Dan was helping Phil get his bag out of the trunk. He lugged it inside with Phil trailing behind him.

Dan's mum ran up the moment they were through the door. "This must be Phil!" she exclaimed, grinning. She pushed past Dan, who rolled his eyes, to trap Phil in a tight hug. She was significantly smaller than him but the embrace seemed to crush.

"_Mum_," Dan whined. "Let him at least get through the door."

"Oh. Sorry. Sorry." She stepped back far enough to look Phil up and down. Phil looked down and stuck his hands in his pockets, obviously uncomfortable under her gaze.

"Alright, alright," Dan interrupted the exchange. He put his arm through Phil's and said, "We're gonna take his stuff up to my room now." And with that he was dragging Phil up the stairs.

They walked into Dan's room, and Dan immediately felt his cheeks grow hot when he realized how messy it was. He coughed as he set Phil's bag on the ground by the bed. "Sorry about the mess. And—er—my mum." He chuckled.

"It's fine," Phil said. He smiled, seeming to be a little more relaxed. "She seems sweet."

"She's embarrassing."

Phil just chuckled and pulled Dan toward him, wrapping his arms around Dan's waist. "I've missed you," he confessed, leaving his lips parted. His eyes were slightly lidded.

Dan smiled at him. "I missed you too." He got up on his toes and pressed his lips to Phil's. "You think they'll miss us if we're up here much longer?"

"Wouldn't want to keep them waiting," Phil muttered halfheartedly.

But then he allowed himself to be pushed against the bedroom wall as Dan went back to kissing him. He shivered when he felt hands go beneath his shirt.

A few moments later though, Dan's mum shouted from downstairs, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing up there!" Dan and Phil pulled apart, giggling, as she added, "Get down here so Phil can meet your father!"

Both of their faces were entirely red as they walked down the stairs to the living room. Dan's dad was sitting on the sofa, but he rose when he saw Phil.

"Ah, so I finally get to meet the famous Phil," he said, grinning. He reached out to shake Phil's hand. "Dan won't shut up about you, ya know."

"_Dad_!"

His dad waved him off and said, "Are you both ready for dinner then?"

.~.

Phil met Marcus at dinner. From his spot sat next to Dan, he was directly facing his boyfriend's brother, and he found himself extremely uncomfortable.

Marcus looked like a normal enough guy, maybe a little ruffled in appearance, but he didn't talk much and didn't anybody in the eye unless he was talking to them.

The only thing that might have indicated there was trouble within the family was the fact that Marcus and Dan never even looked at each other, much less engaged in conversation. Dan didn't even introduce Phil to Marcus; his dad did and Dan gave him a dirty look for it.

"So do you work, Phil?" Dan's dad asked as he was starting to cut into his meal. He passed it off as a casual question, but Phil knew this was really an interrogation.

Phil nodded. He found himself pushing his food around his plate aimlessly and forced himself to put down his fork. "Mostly pencil pushing," he said quietly. "I fill out paperwork at a graphic communications office."

"Do you enjoy that?"

"It's a bit boring actually—but it pays the bills." He shrugged and stuck his fork into the salad in front of him. He glanced over at Dan, who was grimacing at his dad.

"Do we have to do the whole interrogation right now, Dad?" Dan said, and Phil was relieved.

Everything was silent for a moment.

Then everything spiraled out of control when Marcus had to open his mouth.


	17. Chapter 17

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Seventeen

Word Count: 775 (sorry!)

Disclaimer: nope

Author's Note: yo I'm not dead, I'm swear, just busy. Also I burned the shit out of my thumb (I'm so clumsy jfc) so typing has been an ordeal.

.~.

"So no offense, but what kind of wimp can't drive for two hours without having a breakdown?" Marcus asked. He stared at Phil across the table, his lips twitching up at the side slightly. His blinks were slow.

Phil looked uncertainly over at Dan. His mouth hung open, a low sound of indecision coming out. "I…"

Dan curled his lips and glared at his brother. "Marcus," he growled out, baring his teeth. "Watch it."

"No, I'm serious," Marcus responded. He set down his silverware and looked around at his family before his gaze finally settled on Phil. "I mean, I always figured if my brother was gonna fuck dudes—"

"Marcus!" Dan's mum interjected.

"—then he would be the chick-y one but looking at you, I dunno."

Phil ducked his gaze down at the table. How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

He glanced over at Dan, hoping he would know how to handle this sort of thing from his brother, but Dan was staring at his mum hopelessly.

"I…" Phil choked on his breath and stared back down again. His felt familiar pressure build up in his throat and chest.

Oh God.

Oh God.

He didn't look up, but he could feel the stares on him. He knew that Dan's family would be waiting for him to respond, to come up with some sort of defense for himself. And if he didn't? What if he couldn't defend himself and Dan and his family realized how weak he was and hated him?

They'd turn away from him.

Dan wouldn't love him anymore.

Phil would lose the most important person in his life.

He pushed past the clogged feeling in his throat and sputtered out, "I—uh…"

Finally, Dan seemed to snap out of his state of shock. He stood up suddenly, causing Phil to jump, and ground out, "Shut up, Marcus." He looked to his parents, who both seemed to be recovering to anger as well. "Like you're the most stable person here," Dan scoffed.

"Hey!" Marcus stood as well. He was taller than Dan, and seemed to loom over him, but Dan didn't back down.

Phil kept his head down still but glanced up with his eyes. He knew he should step in—this was a fight about him after all—but he couldn't bring himself to move his mouth. He knew he would say the wrong thing and just make everything worse.

"You shut the fuck up!" Marcus continued shouting. "Or I'll tell your stupid, little boyfriend over here how much a wimp you are too!"

"Boys!" Dan's dad shouted suddenly.

Both Dan and Marcus turned suddenly to stare at their dad, chests heaving from anger. They glanced over at each other every few seconds.

"Marcus," their dad growled out, "either go to your room or disappear for the night. We'll talk later."

Marcus didn't move.

"_Now_." Marcus got moving, so their dad turned to Dan and Phil and continued, "Please, finish eating."

Dan watched his brother leave then slowly sat back down. He attempted to give Phil a reassuring smile then went back to eating his dinner.

.~.

It had taken a lot of begging on Dan's part, but his parents had eventually agreed to let Phil share Dan's bed.

They crawled in together early that night, exhausted from the traveling and the emotions of the day. Dan fell into his usual place as the little spoon. His head pressed against Phil's chest so he could hear each heartbeat coming from his boyfriend.

"I love you," Dan whispered, knowing it was something Phil would need to hear after the day they'd had.

Phil didn't respond for a few seconds but when he did, he took a long breath and responded, "I'm not good enough for you."

Dan rolled over to face Phil. He tried not to sound sad when he said, "Don't say that, Phil."

"It's true." Phil sounded so resigned, as if he had accepted it, that Dan thought he could physically feel his heart breaking.

Dan forced Phil to look at him and said, "You _are_ good enough for me. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you so much, and now that you're in my life, I can't imagine being without you."

Phil didn't say anything.

"You believe me, don't you?" Dan asked.

Sighing, Phil shrugged. "I guess," he answered.

Dan decided that was enough for tonight; he didn't want to stress Phil out even more. "Alright, well… Get some sleep," he muttered. "We both need it."

Then he nuzzled his face into Phil's chest and hoped tomorrow would go smoother.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: A Cry You Can Hear at Night

Summary: If they had crossed paths only a moment later, neither of them would have seen tomorrow. (Phan, a little sadness, etc…)

Part: Eighteen

Word Count: 1,298

Disclaimer: nope

Author's Note: so… yeah. My life is going to get super crazy in about 21 hours, so I decided it would be best to wrap this up while I had the time. Love ya.

.~.

The next morning found Phil with his arm slung over Dan. He'd woken up much earlier than his boyfriend, but he felt too awkward to wander around the house on his own. He decided to just stay curled up with Dan.

He took the chance to look around the room. It was overwhelmingly brown—different shades but all brown. There was a TV across from the bed with Guitar Hero guitars piled beside; Phil found himself amused by how many there were. Other than that though, it was pretty much the basic bedroom necessities.

After about half an hour, Dan started to groan and roll over. He slowly opened his eyes. "Mornin'," he said, grinning. He let his arm fall behind him so he could grasp the hand Phil had slung over him.

"Good morning," Phil answered. He slowly stretched out now that he knew he wouldn't disturb Dan.

Dan lifted his head a little. "I think Mum's making breakfast," he said happily. He started to slide out of bed.

Phil furrowed his eyebrows and asked, "How can you tell?"

"Listen," Dan answered, laughing. He reached for a pair of pants to pull over his boxers. He was still smiling.

Phil didn't move for a few seconds, straining his ears to try to hear something. He heard some clattering from downstairs, but he didn't think that could be significant. After a few moments, he said, "What am I supposed to be listening for?"

Dan stared at him. He licked his lips and said, "The pots and pans?"

"Oh." Phil blushed, though he wasn't sure why. He climbed out of the bed and pulled on lounge pants.

Dan eventually ushered him out of the room and down the stairs. They went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Howell was indeed standing at the stove, flipping something Phil couldn't see.

She turned when they walked toward her. "Good morning, boys," she said. "I hope pancakes are okay."

"Sounds great!" Dan sat down at the kitchen table and motioned for Phil to sit beside him.

Mrs. Howell set a plate in front of each of them. Dan tucked in immediately; Phil muttered a quiet _thank you_ and started to cut his pancakes slowly. She sat down beside Dan and said, "So what are the plans for today? Are you staying for another day, Phil?"

Phil slowly looked up at her. For some reason, he was finding it more difficult to meet her eyes than he had last night. "I… I was planning on it. I don't have to be back at work until tomorrow, so I was planning on leaving late tonight."

"Great!" Mrs. Howell responded, smiling at him.

He relaxed a little.

Then she turned to Dan and said, "Well you're dad and I were going to go into town today, so do you and Phil want to come along and you can show him around?"

Dan stopped stuffing his face long enough to say, "Sure." He took another bite before adding, "I assume this is your way of keeping Phil out of the house while Marcus is here?"

Mrs. Howell cringed. "Well, yeah."

Dan shrugged and let out an affirmative grunt as he continued to eat.

.~.

They got back from exploring feeling fantastic. Phil had his arm around Dan's waist and was talking about how cool some of the statues around town had been while Dan just listened and smiled. They made their way up to Dan's room and collapsed on the bed together.

"Do you have to go?" Dan asked, pulling of a whining voice.

Phil sighed. "I have to go to work tomorrow." He looked down at his still packed bag by the foot of Dan's bed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I had to take a few days off when some kid started staying at my house."

Dan laughed and lightly shoved his elbow into Phil's stomach. "It was worth it, huh?" he asked, grinning. He rolled over so he could tickle Phil's stomach.

"Oh God, no." Phil retracted from Dan's hands, giggling, as he tried to protect his stomach. "Not if you do this to me," he shouted. Then he jumped quickly to return the attack on Dan, who squealed and leaped off the bed.

"Oh my God," a voice shouted from outside, "if you guys are gonna fuck, don't be so loud!"

Dan scowled and spun on his heel. He ripped his bedroom door open. "Shut the hell up, Marcus!" he shouted.

"Make me," was the immature reply.

Phil sighed and sat back on the bed, waiting for the exchange between the brothers to be over. If he was braver, he'd walk over and just slam the door so he and Dan could go back to being happy.

"What are you—twelve?" Dan quipped. He moved to close the door but was stopped when Marcus pushed his way in.

He leered at Phil and said, "You're fuck toy still has his pants on. And I thought I was interrupting something here. Darn." He moved to walk out.

Dan suddenly growled and lurched forward to shove his brother. Marcus stumbled, but he managed to catch his balance on the doorframe.

Phil watched in shock as Marcus reached out and punched Dan right in the jaw. Phil let out a little squeak, but he found that he couldn't force himself to do much more than that. He could only sit and watch with his mouth hanging wide open.

Marcus shoved Dan back while he was stunned and continued to punch him. Dan tried to fight back, but his brother had a good amount of height on him, so it wasn't doing much.

It suddenly occurred to Phil how often this must happen. Dan's flinches, the blood stained shirt, _everything_: it all made sense, and Phil wanted to puke at the thought.

He didn't even think as he slowly rose from the bed, walked over to where Dan and Marcus were standing, and grabbed Marcus' wrist just as he was about to land another blow. He then turned enough that he could shove Marcus so hard the older boy tumbled to the ground.

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

After a long enough silence for Phil to start to freak out, Marcus rose. He said, "Fuck this" and walked out of the room.

Phil turned to Dan. "Come on," he growled out. He walked over to where Dan's duffel bag had been slung onto the ground and picked it up. "I don't trust him. Move in with me."

Dan blinked. "_What_?"

Phil gulped, starting to realize how crazy it sounded. "Move in with me. I want you to be safe and… you'd be safe with me."

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Dan looked around his room slowly, as if he was calculating something. Then he turned back to Phil and said, "Okay."

.~.

_A Month Later_

"I think we finally got everything," Dan said, dropping a box onto the floor of their living room. He had gone back to his parents' house that weekend to pick up the last of his belongings and had finally gotten all his furniture moved in.

He grinned, thinking of how perfect his dresser would look in the room he shared with Phil. (He secretly hated Phil's dresser.)

"How are your parents?" Phil asked from where he stood in the kitchen. He was smiling warmly.

Dan shrugged. "Same. They're good but stressed. You know how it is."

Phil walked over to wrap his arms around Dan's waist. He set his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I can't put into words how happy I am that you're here—to stay—with me." He let out an embarrassed laugh.

Dan smiled at him. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."


End file.
